Prophecy
by thesimplyuninspired
Summary: “A weapon of all weapons... birthed by all the elements, more steadfast than any mountain, fiercer than any flame, swifter than any breeze, and stronger than any wave...”
1. The Prophecy

_Prophecy_

A_ Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction  
Written by blue-eyes2014

**Disclaimer:** _Xiaolin Showdown_ is the creation of Christi Hui, and under copyright protection for Warner Bros. (e.g., not mine.) I am not getting paid to write this story, and no copyright infringement is intended. This storyline and any unfamiliar characters/plot devices involved, however, are of my own creation. Please be considerate.

A/N: There I was one day, minding my own business, when -POOF- I suddenly had an idea for Xiaolin Showdown. Of course, I think the symbolism is pretty heavy-handed and overdone... Not to mention that it's pretty predictable...

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**Chapter One: The Prophecy**

It was an old prophecy, so old that the monks weren't sure when it was made. And even if could know, they still couldn't figure out what it meant. But there was no doubt that it was ancient: The scroll it was written on had been handled and poured over so much that it could barely be read now.

And still they remembered:

_**Earth created it: **_  
"_The elements and the ore buried deep within itself created the beginning: nigh indestructible, harder than anything, strongest of all...__**"**_

_**Fire heated it: **_  
"_The flames danced amongst the ore and warmed it, strengthening and merging with the elements, to light its way, and guard it from unworthy wielders...__**"**_

_**Wind shaped it: **_  
"_The laughing zephyrs and howling gales swirled around and around the melted ore, giving it shape and the speed and knowledge of the Air as it, too, became one...__**"**_

_**Water tempered it: **_  
"_The mighty pounding of the waves and the gentle caress of the stream cooled and hardened the weapon, bringing the bite of winter's ice and the force of floods at beck and call...__**"**_

"_A weapon of all weapons... birthed by all the elements, more steadfast than any mountain, fiercer than any flame, swifter than any breeze, and stronger than any wave... When sun and moon are joined, four will awaken it, and with its coming shall the last element be revealed... the strongest and weakest of all...__**"**_

It seemed so simple, so _easy_, and yet they could not comprehend. Why? Were they not meant to know, to decipher this strange message? Suppose they made the mistake of interpreting it too early? Would they even recognize what they sought?

Suppose it came and went, right under their very noses?

--_P_--

Rain pounded against the rooftops, falling in heavy sheets; lightning flashed as thunder roared back while the wind moaned, ripping through trees and all that it could get past. Disregarding all of this, Master Fung stood quietly in the Xiaolin Temple, just within shelter. He closed his eyes. There was electricity in the air, and not just that of the lightning. It seemed as though something about the storm had been holding its breath, and now the stress of the anticipation had broken loose, unleashing its excitement upon the world, though Master Fung was uncertain that the world appreciated the weather's enthusiasm.

A frown pronounced itself on his solemn features as his thoughts went further. This was not the first night to have a storm like this...

The thought was interrupted suddenly when he felt a strange slithering sensation making its way to his shoulders, claws helping it along. Master Fung knew he had no reason to fear, and did not move from his stance. Once the creature had settled itself, he spoke.

"Taking a break, Dojo?"

The green dragon huffed in his ear. "Some break; it's just like all the other hours I waste watching that thing..."

Master Fung raised an eyebrow. "'Waste', you say?" he said. Dojo sighed in reply.

"You know what I mean," he groaned, and Master Fung heard the dragon slap a claw to his brow; the monk allowed the corners of his mouth twitch slightly into a smile. But after a particularly loud roll of thunder, the smile faded, and Master Fung slipped back to his thoughts. Three times before this had happened, though each time it had been different:

The first had caught them off guard. The heavy rolls and shaken the earth so much that the following morning, a repair crew had been called in to replace some of the support beams. Second, the wind had been so fierce that the trees were nearly ripped out of the ground, roots and all; some of the plants hadn't managed to keep a tight enough grip. Third, lightning had struck so often that a blaze started up; the grounds had just barely recovered from the encounter. Now it was like the heavens had opened and unleashed the water from the clouds.

But the oddest thing was the fact that the Xiaolin Temple wasn't the only place to suffer. There were reports of each in Texas, Brazil, and Tokyo, though each time one case had been stronger than the others in one of these locations. And, somehow, Fung knew that China was the worst off with the rains. His frown deepened.

He heard a cough to his right, and his blue eyes traveled to Dojo, who was eying the storm suspiciously. "Kinda weird weather we're having."

"Yes...," said Master Fung. "Even stranger is its probable cause."

Dojo gave him a blank stare. "Pardon?"

"There were three other storms like this: one proclaiming earth, one wind, and one fire. This one..." He swept a hand at the torrents of rain. "...is water."

There was a small silence in which all of this sunk into Dojo. Then his eyes widened, and he turned a numb stare at Master Fung. "Then- that means...?"

"What else could it mean?" inquired Master Fung, turning his gaze back to the small dragon and life-long friend perched on his shoulder.

Dojo opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again; he repeated this for several minutes, looking remarkably like a goldfish, and Master Fung waited patiently for Dojo to reclaim his voice. However, once the dragon had, he was interrupted by a distant, faint sob.

Both straightened, staring out into the storm. Casting an uneasy eye at the weather, the dragon leaned in towards his friend and hissed, "D'you think it's just the wind?"

Master Fung shook his head, eyes never leaving the direction of the sound. After a few more moments of waiting... Yes, there it was again, this time unmistakable. There was someone out there in the storm. Casting his gaze around, Master Fung caught sight of a fellow monk. He called to his comrade.

"Gather some of the elders and bring medical supplies. Someone is out in the storm."

The monk's eyes widened, but he left without a word. Steeling himself, Master Fung stepped out into the rain, ignoring the distinct groan from Dojo as the dragon hid in his vest. Paying no heed to the weather, the monk charged across the grounds, through the main doors, and stopped dead outside the Temple grounds. Just before him, lying in the gathering mud, was a young woman, delicate in stature, though her stomach was extremely round. The woman's sides were heaving, and it took him a moment to realize that she was in labor.

Master Fung was by the woman's side in an instant. Dojo peeked out from under Fung's vest in curiosity.

"Young lady...," started the monk.

The woman's eyes opened, traveling everywhere and finally coming to rest on Master Fung. With a gasp of pain, she seized the monk's arm with a surprisingly strong grip. She looked pleadingly into his eyes, her own flashing pain and desperation.

"Please...," she croaked. "My- my child... Don't let it- _please_..."

"Everything will be alright," he soothed. Then he cast Dojo a stern glance, his eyes saying everything that needed to be told. Dojo seemed to deflate.

"Aw, Fungster..."

"_Now_, Dojo," Master Fung ordered firmly, a steely note in his voice.

With a small, dejected sigh, Dojo inflated himself to his actual length of 40-feet, grumbling about the rain. Unfazed in the slightest, Master Fung carefully lifted the woman and placed her in Dojo's arms. For a moment, Dojo didn't seem to notice. "I still don't see..."

Then the dragon's eyes widened, as though just realizing what he had to do. Quickly, Dojo hurried inside the temple, sheltering the woman from the rain. The monk watched, knowing how risky it was to move her, but she couldn't deliver her child in the rain... Shaking his head, Master Fung headed back inside. He was just in time to see the newcomer be carried off to the infirmary. He released a sigh of relief he didn't even know he'd been holding, and started when confronted by a comrade holding a blanket.

"You must keep warm," he said firmly, wrapping the blanket around Master Fung. He nodded gratefully, and headed to his room. He had some thinking to do.

--_P_--

The interruption came sooner than Master Fung had anticipated.

"It's a boy!" cried Dojo jubilantly, waltzing into the room with a look of glee on his face. "Great delivery: no harm to the little guy at all! Although..." He paused in thought. "...the kid _did_ have a big head... Is that normal?"

Master Fung rose to his feet. "Is the child healthy?" he asked.

Dojo nodded cheerfully.

"Good." Allowing the dragon to clamber back onto his usual perch, Master Fung headed down the hallway to see the mother. He was intercepted, however, by two monks, one holding a small bundle in his arms.

"Here is the child," said the bundle bearer. Master Fung peered curiously into the blankets

Dojo hadn't been kidding: the kid _did_ have a big head. But his small, dark eyes, shining with something special Master Fung couldn't exactly decipher, studied everything with a mild curiosity. The small orbs met Master Fung's wise blue ones, and a tiny smile crept into the monk's face as the child burbled.

"Does he have a name?"

"Not yet, but..." The second monk glanced at the one holding the child, who nodded, bowed, and left. The monk turned back to Fung, his gaze quietly intense. "...There is no doubt that the child is a Chosen One!"

Master Fung's eyes widened, as did Dojo's. (Obviously, the dragon hadn't heard this part.) He looked intently at the news bearer. "You're certain of this?"

"Never more so," said the monk fervently.

A distant look grew in Master Fung's eyes. He nodded, and headed towards the mother's room.

She lay on her bed, sickly and pale. Obviously, the delivery had had too much of an effect on her. Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell weakly. Master Fung quietly slipped in and sat in a bed-side chair. Her eyes flickered for a moment, and she looked at him.

"My son?" she asked weakly.

Master Fung smiled. "He will be fine."

A tiny smile crossed her face, and she nodded, leaning back into the pillows. "Then I have nothing to fear," she whispered, eyes closing.

The older man knew that she was leaving, but not yet. He needed one piece of information from her. "Wait," he said.

She opened her eyes weakly and looked at him.

"Your son...he has no name. What do we call him?"

For an eternity that lasted in one moment, the woman looked at him. Then she motioned with her finger for Master Fung to lean in. He obliged; she raised herself with her remaining strength and gripped him tightly. Her lips just next to his ear, she gasped out with her final breath:

"...Omi."

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**Um...yeah. So there's that chapter. How was it? Okay?**

**Review and let me know, could you?**


	2. Omi

A/N: ...Wow. Within two days, this fanfic was more popular than my other works combined! O_o This is...this is just...wow. A HUGE thank you to all that bothered to look at this; I bid welcome to you all. And even bigger thanks to my reviewers; you guys have really made my day. :)

**EDIT:** Most changes are grammatical, but some bits have been trimmed, such as description of the incoming storm (WHAT was I THINKING,) and Master Fung's little run around the grounds. Slightly changed bits include a certain conversation between a dragon, a Dragon-trainee, and a pregnant woman, and a certain character's facial wounds. That is all.

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**Chapter Two: Omi**

"What is this, Master Fung?"

Smiling slightly, the no-longer-young monk turned to his small companion. Four years after the storm, Omi had become easily excited and extremely curious about the world that flourished around him. The youth had shown a great interest in the training of a Xiaolin Dragon, and had already become psyched on becoming a Dragon of Water; he wanted nothing more than to become the greatest Xiaolin Warrior he could, a trait Master Fung felt strangely relieved about. His vocabulary was surprising, however; he could speak strongly for a four-year-old, even though he sometimes needed to sound out the words and had difficulty every now and then. At the moment, the large-headed four-year-old was stooped over a small insect in the grass, eyes wide with an unconcealed wonder that could only come from a child.

Walking over, Master Fung looked at what had caught his pupil's attention, and smiled. He stooped over, allowing the creature to climb onto his finger. "This, Omi," said the monk, squatting, so as to be closer to Omi's eye level, "is a caterpillar."

Omi's eyes went rounder. "What does it do, Master?"

"Well, it eats and eats, until it spins a cocoon around itself. After much time in this cocoon, it will one day become a butterfly. Like that one," he said, nodding over to a butterfly that had just alighted on a nearby flower.

The small child's eyes landed on the winged insect and lit up. Face following suit with an excited grin, he hurried over to the flower in earnest. The brightly colored creature lifted itself into the air, fluttering around Omi's wondering eyes for a moment, and flew away. Omi laughed happily, and turned to his teacher.

"Did you see that, Master?" he asked excitedly. He was positively beaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and all because of a small insect. Laughing inwardly, Master Fung nodded gently.

"Yes young one, I did."

With another excited giggle, the youth hurried over to a different flowerbed, eyes searching intently for another butterfly. With a small shake of his head, Master Fung followed at a slower pace, smiling at his pupil's excitement. On his shoulder, he heard Dojo make a noise of confusion.

"I don't get it; it's just a _bug_," remarked the dragon.

"To you, perhaps," replied Master Fung calmly. "But to Omi, it is a new and wondrous creature, revealing a world he was not aware of. Through his child eyes, he sees things that we cannot hope to ever see again. You were once like that, I believe."

"C'mon, give me a break! It's been over fifteen-hundred years since then! You expect me to be able to remember that far back?"

"No, Dojo. It hasn't been nearly as long as that for me, and yet I have no recollection of my youngest days."

Omi came sprinting up to them then, grinning like mad. "Dojo, Master Fung! Come and look; I've found such wonder..." He paused, face screwed up in concentration. "...won-der-ous things!" he finished, beaming.

"I'll come, Omi," said Dojo, slithering down from Fung's shoulder. "Master Fung has something important to do, don't ya?"

The old monk nodded. "Dojo speaks true; I'm afraid I will have to wait." Seeing Omi's crestfallen expression, Master Fung smiled gently, patting the youth on the head. "Go along, Omi; I will join you later."

After a moment, Omi's face brightened. "Come, Dojo! You must see!" he cried happily, racing to the flowerbed and motioning for the dragon to follow. Before Dojo could go, however, he heard Master Fung clear his throat. The green dragon looked up at his old friend.

"What?"

"Keep an eye on him, won't you?" requested Master Fung, nodding at Omi, who was now calling to Dojo, waving his arms to signal his green friend over. Dojo snorted.

"What do you think I am?" he said accusingly. "Of course I'll keep an eye on the kid!" With that, the dragon slithered after his friend, calling, "I'm coming, Omi, I'm coming."

For a second, Master Fung watched the two, secretly wishing he could go over. But he knew he couldn't. Omi wasn't the only one in need of attention...

Sighing softly, Fung turned towards the meditation room and, for now, unused vault. Leaves from last year's autumn rustled around him from the breeze as he approached the building. Entering, Master Fung walked calmly over to his usual spot and sat in a meditative position. Settled, he closed his eyes and opened his mind to the world.

--_P_--

With a prowess that exceeded his years, a ten-year-old boy hopped amongst the rocks, intelligent dark eyes examining his landing spot thoroughly each time in the few precious seconds it took to jump from place to place. Stopping on a particularly large boulder just on the edge of the forest, he raised a hand to brush thick, obscuring strands of ebony hair out from his sight. With a small sigh, he placed his hands on his hips and looked back; his seven-year-old brother lagged behind, shifting his way through the imposing rocks with less than half of the success his brother was having. All the same, when the youth looked up to see how far behind he was the older flashed him a grin and the thumbs-up sign.

"You're doing great, Ax!"

The younger, Axel, grinned briefly, but then lowered his head and returned to struggling over the rocks. It took him several minutes to reach the spot his brother was at, bent over and panting. He straightened, swiping dark-bronze locks out of his crystalline-blue eyes, just as his sibling had. Once Axel had regained his breath, he fixed his older brother with a slightly accusing look.

"Do you really have to go so fast, Brant? You _know_ I can't match that speed!"

Brant rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly. "Sorry, Axel; I just get so excited..."

He cut himself off when the sound of someone else approaching crossed their ears; someone much bigger. They both looked back the way they came, and saw a woman making her way across the rocks. She was a nicely sized woman, usually slender, with long, reddish-black hair twisted into an elegant braid. Normally, Estelle would have been able to overcome the obstacles nimbly, but heat from the late-afternoon sun and her round stomach combined to slow her a great deal.

"Mom, are you sure you should be moving around like this...especially in your condition?" asked Axel, worriedly. This caused Estelle to smile; Axel always tended to act older than he actually was, a trait both she and her eldest son were proud of and found amusing, all at the same time.

Estelle patted her hard, round stomach affectionately, giving her youngest boy a grin of reassurance. "This child isn't coming for some time, dearest Axel. Besides," she said, sitting down heavily on the rock, "I did this all the time when carrying both of you, and look how you turned out!"

"Yeah," mumbled Axel; only a deaf man could have missed the tinge of resentment in the child's voice. "Just look."

"Aw, c'mon, Ax," said Brant, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We each have our different strengths."

"Oh yeah?" said Axel, turning a burning look at his brother. "What's mine?"

After the smallest of silences, it was Estelle who spoke first, pulling Axel into her warm embrace. "You, Axel, are my protector. You keep me safe."

Though Brant nodded his agreement, he felt a small twinge of annoyance under his brotherly love for the younger boy. Brant had been training for a while, perfecting his martial art skills, so as to be more of a barrier between harm and his family. But Axel had always been by their mother's side when she needed help. While Brant went to make sure everything was okay, his brother remained with Estelle. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help but feel a small pang of jealousy. It all seemed so... fated.

It was then that Estelle turned her loving, chocolate gaze on her oldest. "Why so quiet, Brant?" she asked gently, eyebrows formed into a question.

Blinking, the boy shook his himself, and grinned. "Nothing, mom; I'm fine."

"Mm-hmm," said Estelle, releasing Axel from her embrace. She was obviously not fooled, but let it pass all the same.

"Anyway," said Brant, wanting a change of subject and turning to face the woods, "we should get a move on if we want to-"

Brant felt the remaining words turn to ash and vanish before utterance. He sensed Axel at his side, voicing concern, but his brother's voice seemed faint and far-off, a mere whisper carried to him by a breeze. There was something in there...and he wasn't the only one who could see it.

"...Brant?" Axel's voice sounded small and terrified to his ears. "What is it?"

The older boy never had a chance to answer.

A huge shape flung itself out from the bushes and into Brant so quickly that it was nothing more than a blur to his eyes. His head knocked to the ground, and the last things he was aware of before the darkness were jaws dragging him away, Axel's young hands gripped tightly to his wrist, Estelle's screams, and green eyes still burning in his mind...

--_P_--

Sighing deeply, Master Fung glanced at the doorway. Judging by the light, it was late afternoon, just a little before dusk; he had been meditating for much longer than he'd realized. The monk rose heavily to his feet, and exited. A thought struck him, and he headed toward the gardens...only to find it empty, devoid of any temple inhabitants. Omi and Dojo had obviously long since left this place.

With a small sigh, he headed towards the kitchens. Closing in, however, he heard voices, becoming louder to him as he neared. Yes, there they were: the youth and dragon were settled around the table, eating a snack, both talking animatedly about their discoveries. Omi's head turned just as Master Fung was about to clear his throat to speak, causing the old monk's eyebrows to rise. The small child grinned happily at him, mouth still full of food.

"Hewwo, Massa Foong!" said Omi around a large helping of sandwich. Dojo grinned widely, revealing the food within his mouth as well, and waved, indicating he couldn't speak.

Biting back a laugh, Master Fung fixed his charge with a semi-serious look. "Now Omi; what have we said about speaking with our mouths full?"

Blinking a few times, Omi blushed, swallowed, and grinned again. "But Master, my mouth is always filled with words! How would I be able to speak then?"

"Having your mouth filled with words is much different from your mouth being filled with food, young monk," replied Master Fung patiently. When he turned to Dojo, however, his gaze became fully stern. "I had at least expected you to know better, Dojo Kanojo Cho."

"Sowwy," replied Dojo. At his old friend's hard stare, the small dragon, like Omi, blushed and swallowed. "Sorry," he corrected himself. "It's just this kid really rubs off on ya."

"Indeed," said Master Fung, arching an eyebrow.

Omi's voice bounced towards his ears. "Master Fung! Why did you not join us in the garden?" The youth's tone held a little more than some accusation.

Master Fung nodded to him, apologetic. "My apologies, Omi; I'm afraid that what I had to do had taken a little longer than expected."

What happened next was unexpected. Omi's mouth was actually halfway open to reply when wails filled the air. All three of them jumped, looking around. It was an eerie sound; a scream of grief and pain from unearthly origins, shoved into a single word that they knew yet did not recognize. Looking confused, Omi studied himself, eyebrows slanted in a question. Exchanging a look, the three agreed silently, and rushed out to find the source. None of them had anticipated what they would see there.

A woman, heavy with child and sobbing uncontrollably, was supported in the arms of another monk. Tears carved tracks in the dirt covering her face, and strands of hair were falling out of the braid hanging down her back.

Master Fung and the monk exchanged a glance, and the monk half supported, half carried the woman into the temple. Omi watched all of this with wide eyes.

His teacher turned to him, and said, "Please go to your room, Omi; I will come and inform you on what I know soon enough." With that, the old man walked with surprising calmness after his comrade, leaving Omi and Dojo to gape stupidly at each other.

After a few minutes, Dojo sped up onto Omi's shoulder and began tugging forward. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Follow them?" said Omi, eyebrows rising and arching with shock. "But...but Master Fung said-"

"Oh, come on, kid!" exclaimed Dojo. "A little eavesdropping now and then never hurt anybody! Move it!"

Giving in, Omi crept quickly but silently in pursuit of his elders, remembering his little training and blending into the shadows as he worked his way through the temple. Uncertain of how he was doing it, the small Chinese boy somehow managed to slip past a few monks without being noticed.

Eventually, sooner than the two had expected, they spotted Master Fung and the other monk, standing just within the open doorway of a room, in which the bed was occupied by the now-unconscious woman. Remaining silent, the two found that they had just come upon Master Fung mid-sentence.

"...happened to the boys?"

"We have no way of knowing, Fung. For all we can assume, the creature has eaten them by now."

"Lower your voice," Master Fung murmured quietly, sending a glance towards the woman in the bed. The other bit his lip and looked a little ashamed.

"There's no helping it; she will find out in time...," he said in a tone to match Master Fung's volume.

"But not now; not when we haven't any proof."

The other nodded, conceding that Master Fung was right. After a small pause, he said, "What kind of creature do you think it could be? A large cat that breathes fire... I have no recollection of ever learning of such a thing."

Omi and Dojo exchanged an uneasy glance.

"Memory fails us all," responded Master Fung sagely, eyes growing distant in thought.

For an unaccounted for amount of time, nothing more was said, as both of the older monks wracked their brains for the answer that eluded them. It was thick enough for Omi and Dojo to become increasingly nervous. Suddenly, Master Fung's eyes opened.

"First and foremost, we must protect the temple."

"Agreed," said the other.

"And Omi...," said Master Fung quietly, his eyes flashing to Omi's and Dojo's hiding spot. For a split-second, Omi thought that maybe Master Fung was calling him over; but then the monk's gaze shifted back to his companion. "Omi cannot move around the temple unattended. He must be under supervision at all times."

"And to be safe, he should be restricted inside unless it needs be he should move to another building."

Omi's jaw dropped in mixed horror and disbelief. Dojo pinched him, so that he wouldn't forget that they were hiding. The youth's mouth shut quickly and silently.

"I agree," nodded Master Fung. After another pause, he said, "Go now; you have other matters to attend to."

With a nod and a bow, the other monk left, walking past Omi and Dojo without so much as a glance. For several moments after he had left, Omi and Dojo remained hiding. It was only when the remaining monk spoke to them that they knew they already were found out.

"Come on out, Omi, Dojo."

The two cohorts in crime looked at each other, surprised and yet not surprised. With a defeated sigh, Dojo waved a claw to motion Omi forward. Head bowed, Omi stepped out from his hiding place and glanced at Master Fung, feeling ashamed of himself for snooping.

"Master Fung-"

"I know you overheard, Omi, and I also know who talked you into following me." He gave Dojo a meaningful look that caused the dragon to quail. When Dojo couldn't meet his gaze any longer, Master Fung turned back to his pupil, sympathy in his blue eyes. "You should know, young one, the part concerning you, I meant it, and I stand by it firmly. It's for your own good."

A feeling of injustice boiled its way up into Omi, but, looking at his teacher, he knew it was fruitless to argue. Anger flowing in his veins, the boy glared at his shoes, and said, in a forced voice of dangerous calmness,

"Yes, Master Fung."

--_P_--

The black-navy blue of a night sky cast such an odd hue on the world: dark blue, almost indigo. The tiny pinpricks of light in the dark blanket were outshone by the moon, a bright, silver coin in the sky. However, tonight, this peaceful image was interrupted by a huge wall of dark clouds, creeping along and swallowing up stars like smoke. A flash lit up the clouds briefly, and a distant grumble echoed through the night.

For Omi, the sky was strangely fitting to his mood. On one hand, he was content like the moonlit half, fine with everything here. On the other, he was upset by Master Fung's orders, much like the approaching storm; he had looked forward to exploring more of the world inside the Xiaolin Temple. Each new day yielded new surprises, after all. But here he was, stuck inside while the night called to him. He sighed heavily.

"Aw, cheer up, Omi," said Dojo, shifting a few scrolls in his arms as to hold them a little easier.

"But Dojo, I can't stay inside while the world is _out_side!" Omi complained, whirling on the spot to face the dragon, his arms flying up. "How can I sit here and do nothing?"

"You could meditate," the dragon suggested, almost overbalancing but catching himself just in time.

The child groaned. "But I already tried that! My thinking is so filled with thoughts I can't think thor- thoroughly!"

"That's a mouthful...," Dojo muttered.

"Honestly, Dojo! There is nothing here to do," Omi concluded miserably, leaning against the rail.

Dojo said nothing; he was too busy trying to balance himself and the scrolls. However, it was when he nearly toppled over for the fifth time that a light bulb popped over his head with a small _Ping!_ "Well, I know how you could be productive."

Omi brightened. "Really?" he asked, interested.

The green dragon indicated the scrolls. "Give me a ride."

That wasn't exactly what the child had in mind; he deflated slightly. He tried to come up with something, but the slight silence, which lasted roughly five seconds, was enough to irritate the youth's small friend.

"Well, don't everybody jump up at once!" snapped Dojo crossly. "I know it's not the most glamorous job in the world-"

"I'm sorry, Dojo!" Omi exclaimed apologetically. "It is just...it was not...I did not mean..."

"Yeah, yeah," Dojo grumbled, clambering as best he could onto Omi. "Just get moving, would you? I'm sure Master Fung wouldn't worry so much if I was with you."

Without a word, Omi nodded and walked where Dojo instructed him. The little dragon seemed to calm down as they went along, and soon he was in an infectiously good mood. Pretty soon, Omi was chuckling along with him, even if he did need to have a few things explained to him. After all, he was only four years old.

Soon they reached the scroll room, Dojo's obvious destination. While Dojo went inside to sort his scrolls, Omi remained at the door, thinking...

When Dojo exited, he was greeted by the sight of Omi with a most peculiar expression on his face. Just when he was going to speak, Omi said, "I want to visit the lady."

--_P_--

Estelle was unlike anything Omi had ever come across, never having seen a member of the female group of the species before in his life. His fascination, however, was in the fact that she carried unborn life within her. When he asked if it were by magic, the tiniest of smiles, the first one seen there since the afternoon, forced itself into her face.

"No," she said, hoarse chuckles shoving their way out of her throat. "It's not magic, Omi; at least, not the kind of magic you have in mind."

This confused him. "But...what other magic exists?"

"The magic of life, of course," she said, as though this were obvious.

Omi's expression remained blank, and Dojo shook his head. "I'll explain when you're older. I guess you'd need to know the opposite first."

"You mean death?"

The other two in the room jumped, because this particular inquiry was made by Omi. They both stared at him, blinking in surprised befuddlement. After exchanging a glance, they turned their full attention to their young companion.

"...You know what death is?" the woman finally asked; she said the words carefully, as though treading on red-hot coals.

"Probably not," the child admitted, sounding out the longer word. "But I think I may be getting the idea."

In truth, Omi didn't really understand the concept of death. Several days previously, he and Master Fung had come across a bird, lying motionless beneath a tree. Master Fung had deduced that it must have hit the plant, crushing its skull, though no evidence of broken bones had been present. When Omi had inquired as to what the bird was doing, his teacher had become very quiet, as though contemplating how to best explain it. Finally, the old man had conceded it was dead, only to be posed with the question of just what death was.

_"Is it like being asleep?"_

_"...Yes, Omi, that would be the easiest way of explaining it, though it stops woefully short of the truth; death...is a sleep from which one never wakes."_

The whole thing had made Omi more than a little confused. All that he had been able to glean from the experience was that the motionless bird had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his short life. The delicate body and fragile-looking wings had been etched in his mind with perfect clarity.

Omi shook his head to clear it. "In any case, I suppose you are right; life is magic."

Estelle and Dojo seemed to embrace the continuation of the conversation, for they visibly relaxed. But after a few moments it seemed that Estelle had relaxed a little too much; the smile faded from her lips, and her eyes were downcast. With the tiniest of sighs, she stared at the blankets.

Concern entered Omi's eyes as he tilted his head to the side, curiosity lining his gaze. "What's wrong?"

She balled her hands into fists, gripping the blankets. "I- I fear that the magic of my sons' lives may have been ripped away."

"You mean, you think they are dead," interpreted Omi. Lacking an understanding of just what exactly death was, his tone was casual, even though his voice was concerned. By some miracle, Estelle looked past it, even as the tears squeezed their way from behind her eyes when she nodded.

Dojo shot his young friend a sharp look, and patted Estelle comfortingly on the shoulder. "I'm sure they're okay," he said, tasting the foul lie in his words as he spoke them.

A humorless laugh escaped her lips. "You sound so sure," she remarked, a hint of sarcasm in her words. Shaking her head, she said, "I've been so worried... I haven't eaten since lunch."

"We can-not be sure of ever- ever-y-thing, Estelle," said Omi, approaching the bed. "But that does not mean we can't hope. And you can-not...a-ban-don the new life in you," he added, eyes flashing to her stomach. "I think you should worry about your baby first."

Estelle didn't answer; for a while she said nothing, but eventually she nodded, almost determinedly. When she said nothing more to her visitors, they decided it would be best to leave her alone for the moment. Once they were out of earshot of the woman, Dojo shook his head.

"You shouldn't talk about death so lightly," he said quietly.

"Why, Dojo?" Omi's eyes were quizzical.

The dragon sighed. "You'll know...someday."

They continued to walk through the temple; Omi wasn't all that sure of where his feet were taking them, because it was almost as though they had suddenly developed minds of their own. It wasn't until he was aware that Dojo had left his shoulder that Omi stopped. Glancing down, he spotted Dojo a few feet behind him, apparently lost in thought. The child turned around, facing the dragon.

"Dojo?" he asked

Dojo jumped, as though tugged from a particularly interesting dream. "Huh?"

"Are you alright, Dojo?"

"Alright?" Dojo's eyes were tugged in a frown as he thought about this. "Yeah, I'm fine, I was just..."

His voice faded away as his eyes widened, fixed at a point somewhere above Omi's right shoulder. Slightly frightened, Omi turned his head to look around himself, even at the ceiling. Unable to see the source of Dojo's fear, he turned slowly back to the dragon.

"Are you sure you're-"

"Cats are carnivorous, right?" Dojo interrupted with a foreign intensity in his face.

Omi blinked. "What?"

With a small groan, Dojo rephrased his previous sentence. "Cats eat meat, don't they?"

That didn't help too much, but Omi slightly understood what Dojo meant. He shrugged. "I suppose so..."

"So that means..." Dojo swallowed. "...those two could already have been turned into dinner by now; eaten." Tears popped up into his eyes. "Poor kids..."

Omi said nothing; although unable to comprehend some things, he certainly knew that this wasn't good. Biting his lip, he started pacing subconsciously, once again unaware of his feet's actions or their intent. All he knew was that he wanted to help, somehow, but he didn't know what to do. A feeling of helplessness crept over him, and he didn't like it one little bit. Racking his brain with no success, he sighed, arms slapping against his side.

"What does Master Fung do in a situation like this?" he wondered aloud. Dojo heard the remark, thinking it was for him.

"Well, usually he goes over to the vault and meditates," the dragon said helplessly.

Omi's head snapped up. "Does it work?"

"Sometimes; it helps him get an answer nine out of ten times." The dragon closed his eyes. "But I don't really see a way out of this one." Raising his head, he opened his eyes as he continued to speak. "Why do you-?" His voice failed him as cold fear gripped his heart.

Omi had vanished.

--_P_--

By the time Omi had managed to scale the tree, a light drizzle had started up, the clouds covering two thirds of the sky above him. He planned to get to the vault by roof-hopping; it would help him to get to his destination without detection.

But when he had managed to get to the first roof, it seemed that his plan was easier said than done. The ground seemed much farther away than it actually was, and a smallest of breezes was buffeting him around, making him wobble even worse than he previously was. Nevertheless, Omi was determined to do this. He needed an answer, and this sounded like the best means to get it. On unsteady legs, he started his journey across the rooftops, struggling to squash the swell of doubt growing in his heart with every step.

His worrying only increased when he came to the end of his current path. Below him, the ground stared back up at him, looking extremely solid. Across the gap stood another building, the roof about level with the one he was currently on. Omi bit his lip; there was only one choice.

Feeling extremely nervous, Omi backed up several steps. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, held it for a second, and released it, opening his eyes. Steeling himself, he started running across the wet roof. With each near stumble, his terror increased, until he ran out of roof and he had to jump.

For a few, uncountable moments, Omi had a distinct feeling of flight. Suspended as he was in midair with nothing beneath him and only inertia making it possible for him to do this, he felt as though everything had been left on the ground. It was strangely...liberating. Then he noticed that the roof was becoming increasingly closer. He swallowed, bracing his feet for impact.

The landing came sooner than expected. His feet touched the tiles, and shock waves worked up through his legs, his torso, and up to his arms. For a moment, he wobbled dangerously on his precarious perch. But then he steadied and blinked, looking back; the distance seemed so much smaller now. A spark of confidence growing in the place doubt once occupied, he allowed himself a grin and carried on.

He managed the rest of the journey with little incident, until he reached the final jump. The steady drizzle hadn't been enough to soak Omi to the bone, but it was certainly enough to make the rooftops slippery. On the final landing, one of his feet slid out from beneath him, and he skidded down the incline and found himself falling.

It took him less than a split-second to notice a slowly growing puddle just beneath him. His mind, still surprised by his slip, was so overthrown by this sight that all he could think about besides the need of a safe landing was water. His mouth opened to speak, though he didn't really know what he was going to say. Finally his tongue was loosed, and he gasped out the first thing that popped into his head as he closed his eyes:

"_Water_!"

Braced as he was for impact with the ground, Omi was greatly surprised when it never came. Instead, a cold wetness covered everything but his head, soaking him more effectively than the rain ever had. He opened his eyes, and nearly fainted.

A pillar of water, small though it was, had suddenly grown from the puddle, looking like some kind of mutated tree trunk. He sat there, the embrace of the liquid strangely comforting, like a warm blanket on a stormy night. Omi looked around himself, and a grin forced the corners of his mouth upward, giving the child a slightly deranged look. He'd had no idea how this had happened, but he liked it already. With a boost of confidence, he decided that he wanted to be back on the ground.

"AA-!"

_SPLASH!_

Omi groaned. Instead of being let down gently, the pillar had fallen away as though sucked into a vacuum, and Omi had landed painfully on the stone path. His hand stung terribly; lifting it to look, he saw a scrape on his palm, bits of loose rock and dirt sticking to it, drops of blood as red as cherries oozing silently from the wound. Tears of pain were building up in the child's eyes, a tiny wail lodging itself in his throat. Finally, he started sucking on it, spitting out the dirt and rock as the tears streamed down his face. Still sucking on his injury, Omi rose to his feet and walked the remaining distance to the meditation vault, wiping his eyes on a soaked sleeve.

The warmth cast by the torches and the cauldron situated in the middle of the circular room had therapeutic effects on the cold, wet child. Even the scrape's stinging had lessened. He took his hand from his mouth and looked around, wondering what to do now. Settling himself in a position he had seen Master Fung take many times before, he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.

In a matter of moments, he was overtaken by a hoard of noisy, distracting thoughts. Frustration mounting, Omi tried to dissipate these to a steady silence, but this proved to be easier said than done. For each one thought he managed to squash, ten more took its place. He groaned, and stood back up.

It was then that a strange idea came to him. Not really knowing why, he bent over, placed the top of his head on the ground, and tried to balance himself; he toppled over almost immediately. Not to be deterred, the small boy picked himself back up and tried again. It took him five more tries to finally balance on his head, and even then he was a little wobbly. Situating his body in a meditative position, he tried it again...and this time it worked. Allowing himself a grin for a moment, he returned to meditating.

He remained that way for what could have been seconds or hours, searching for the answer. Suddenly, he had a strange sensation on his forehead, as though someone were inside his head, pressing a number of warm circles against his skull. Before he could dwell on this, however, he was swept away in a thought:

He saw the Xiaolin Temple, ancient and beautiful in the rain; his vision closed up on one of the entrances, this one with a tree-lined path; his vision went further, and he saw a creature, long and lithe, with burning green eyes...

The vision passed, and Omi's eyes snapped open. He knew where to look.

Leaping to his feet and ignoring the dizzying sensation of blood rushing from his head, Omi stumbled from the meditation vault and, once his legs righted themselves, sped to his destination, ignoring the slight increase from drizzle to rain, leaping over puddles and passing buildings in a blur. The urgency of the situation and a drive of determination shoved all thought of alerting Master Fung or anyone else to his revelation right out of his head. Seeing the entrance, he skidded to a stop in front of it, panting slightly, and went on guard as he opened the doors with all the silence he could muster.

Step by cautious step, Omi peered out to the land beyond the temple walls, caution starting to be mixed with wonder and exhilaration. He had never before been allowed outside of the temple grounds, and technically, he still wasn't supposed to be out here. All the same, he was taking his first steps ever out from the safety of the Xiaolin Temple. It was exciting, and this excitement was only increased at the thought that he'd be meeting a dangerous animal in battle.

He didn't think of death; he didn't even know what it was.

Soon, Omi had cleared the stairs and was on the path; trees loomed forebodingly above him, and a small tremor of fear slipped into him. Omi gulped, and then froze when a growl reached his ears.

It was unlike anything Omi had heard before, like every fear had been crammed and morphed into a single noise uttered from a single throat. Frozen solid with fear, Omi jerkily moved his head in the direction the sound came from. Something flashed across the path, and Omi's head snapped in the other direction. Feet rooted to the spot, all Omi could do was wait.

The tiniest of whimpers issued from the side, and his eyes glanced in that direction. Omi managed to catch sight of two shadows, slightly hidden behind a tree, before the attack.

A roar filled Omi's ears; it was an unearthly scream from the bottom of the deepest pits and the darkest shadows, frightening, almost metallic, and chilled blood where it flowed, freezing every part of the body. The creature leapt from the trees just ahead of Omi, claws extended and jaws wide, revealing razor sharp impossibly white teeth, meant for tearing flesh from bones. It caught the light streaming from a gap in the clouds, and Omi saw just what he was facing: something quite like a mountain lion, only with faint tiger-like stripes, and more slender in build, sleek; a tawny hide touched silver from the moonlight; green eyes like fierce emeralds blazing with a strange light- the same eyes he'd seen in his vision.

Trapped as he was from fear, the only thing Omi could do was watch as, seemingly in slow motion, the monster soared at him and rammed into his body, pinning him to the ground. The spell broken, Omi slammed his feet into the chest of the creature, catching it off-guard and shoving it off of him, and he leapt to his feet. It prowled a few feet away, as though keeping its distance, and suddenly lunged; Omi threw a punch and hit the cat squarely in the jaw. It yowled and leapt back, its eyes glaring at him.

The thing remained where it was, glaring at the small child with a hatred he'd never encountered, causing him to quail slightly. It attacked again, this time catching Omi off guard and locking its jaws around his arm, strong enough for a grip but not to pierce the flesh, and threw him into a tree on the right side of the path. Omi slammed into the tree, hearing the branches above rattle from the impact and feeling a few leaves land on him and the ground around him. Looking up, he saw the creature stretch its jaws open; a green orb began growing there until it became a fireball, and it shot towards him. Omi was just able to dodge the blast, which left a black circle in the place his head was moments before. Still against the tree, Omi was forced to dodge three more blasts.

In the brief respite that followed, Omi glanced to the side and saw the two shadows more clearly this time: Two boys, the larger one lying facedown in the grass, motionless, while the other cowered next to the first, fear dancing in his eyes.

The next thing he knew, Omi was being pinned to the tree by one large paw, and staring into the face of the cat. It bared its fangs and uttered a seducing growl, sending shivers up and down Omi's spine. Unexpectedly, the child felt his gaze being drawn to the creature's eyes.

In his mind, silky and so soft it was just _barely_ audible he heard a voice whisper, _Look_.

So he did.

His mind screaming to him not to look, every fiber of his being rejecting the command, Omi, without hesitation, looked into the creature's eyes.

Green filled his gaze. Black slits were surrounded by green circles; while generally emerald, the irises were flecked with every shade of green in the spectrum. The eyes pierced him to the bone, reading him like a child's book. But they weren't eyes; they became flames, vast and fierce. Flames were dancing fiercely within the holes of the skull. Flames of crackling heat, comfortably warm and at the same time unbearably hot; flames that never slept, never stopped...

Within these flames, Omi saw something grow, something white-red in color. Soon he saw a circle, and then more, and then a diagram of them, tilted into a diamond. The diamond was on a large, round head; _his_ head. It was him, a few years older perhaps, but him. His shirt's colors had swapped positions with each other, the dominant one now being black. But his face... his face was contorted by a frightening, deranged grin, eyes dancing with a mad light. He stood suspended by water, arm-like funnels reaching out, one pinning an older tan boy to a cave wall, while an even older boy, mighty in stature, struggled to his feet behind the water-wielding deranged warrior. Fear coursed through Omi. This...what was this? It couldn't be...it just _couldn't_ be...

A droplet of water fell from the branch and hit the floor with a small _drip_.

The image flickered.

Omi blinked; another drop hit the floor. It happened again, like the vision before him was a mirror-like pond, and raindrops were now falling into it. Right then, Omi had an epiphany. He recalled the pillar of water that had caught him before he hit the ground, and saw the droplets distorting the image. Calling up the last part of his mind not carried away by the horrifying vision, Omi heard the steady crash of ocean waves, felt the small raindrops hitting his head. It happened again, and didn't go away this time: the warm circles pressing against his skull. Focusing what he could on it, Omi uttered the name of his element.

"...Water."

Waves rose up before his eyes and receded. The vision cracked like glass and shattered, and Omi was back in the rain, pinned by the cat-creature. As though it realized that its trick had been thwarted, the creature growled, more angrily this time, and bared its teeth at Omi. Fear embraced him in its familiar arms, even with the strange circles, as he stared into the green eyes, their powers useless against him now but still terrifying, still filled with rage and hatred.

Quite suddenly, staring into those pitiless green eyes, Omi knew what death was.

--_P_--

When Master Fung heard the commotion coming from outside the gates, he'd already sent Dojo to gather the other monks and tracked Omi to the mediation vault. His heart already pounding in his throat, the shrieks and cries of battle only served to further increase his anxiety for the young child a dying woman had placed in his care.

When he came upon the gates and saw the doors slightly ajar, his fear increased, and he raced, panting now, over to the gates and was forced to stop, trying to regain his breath. When he opened his eyes, he didn't see anything...at first.

Heading down the steps, he suddenly noticed a large, limp form lying on the path, unmoving. He feared it was Omi, until he realized that it was far, far too big to be the monk. With calmer steps, he walked over to it. Reaching it, he was greeted by the unconscious body of a large cat, alien to him in form. He turned his head to the sound of labored breathing, and found himself rooted to the spot with surprise.

Omi stood there, his face shadowed as to hide his expression, raindrops sliding seemingly unnoticed down his face. The youth's gaze seemed fixated upon the creature that was, apparently, his former opponent. A faint, yellow glow, square in shape, emanated from his forehead, visible and yet not quite, sticking out in the darkness like a daisy amidst a bouquet of roses. Master Fung approached the monk, cautiously; if Omi was at all aware of his master's presence, he didn't show it. Upon closer inspection, he could just see a diagram of nine dots, casting the square shaped glow. His eyes widened; he'd never really expected Omi to posses _that..._

He became aware of footsteps heading towards him, and looked away from his charge to see Dojo leading the rest of the monks towards them. The dragon reached them first, and upon seeing Omi his nerves seemed to calm.

Just slightly, anyway.

"Omi? Oh good, you're alive! Master Fung, what's going on? What's with Omi? What's _that_?"

The rapid-fire of questions bounced off of Master Fung, for his only concern was for Omi. But then he heard a faint whimper off to the side; looking up, he saw two boys.

Estelle's sons!

Shooting Omi one last worried glance, Master Fung hurried over to the boys. The smaller boy, Axel was what Estelle said his name was, seemed to be physically whole. Brant, however, lay unconscious on the ground, face in the grass. After patting Axel comfortingly on the arm, he squatted next to Brant and turned him over. Upon seeing the boy's face, his stomach mimicked the action.

Brant's face was completely covered in blood. Fighting against the bile that had leaped into his throat, Master Fung wiped the red substance from the child's face as best as he could. Three deep gouges started at the right side of the boy's forehead, slashing diagonally across his face. He heard Dojo give a low whistle.

"Whoa...," he said, eyes widening. "That's one nasty injury! He was lucky it missed his eyes!"

Master Fung silently agreed, though he didn't give voice to this opinion.

Suddenly, a frightening snarl came from behind; Dojo gave a noise of terror and dived into Master Fung's vest as the old monk whirled around, leaping into a fighting stance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Omi lift his head. The cat had regained consciousness, and was now glaring at everyone around it with unprovoked hatred, except for in the case of Omi. Before the monks could so much as bat an eyelid, however, the cat raced down the pathway and vanished into the rainy night without a trace.

Once the thing was gone, Omi lowered his head again, and Master Fung thought he heard the child sigh. In the blink of an eye, he was squatted at Omi's side, fixing the child with such an intense gaze that he was certain his student was aware of it.

"Omi?"

Omi's eyes flickered in his direction briefly.

"Omi, what happened here, young monk?"

For a while, it seemed as though Omi were trying to awaken his tongue from a deep slumber. Finally, with some difficulty he said, "Fire."

That didn't make sense. "What happened?" Master Fung repeated, trying to get a straight answer from his charge.

Omi merely shook his head, closing his eyes. "Fire... Green...green fire..."

Master Fung bit his lip. Omi wasn't well, that was certain; the young monk needed rest, possibly medical treatment for all he knew. Straightening, he placed a guiding hand around his student. "It's time to go inside now, Omi."

The youth raised his head slightly, and the diagram faded. "Home."

Master Fung smiled encouragingly as Dojo peeked from out under the vest and resumed his position on the old monk's shoulder. "That's right Omi: home."

Quietly, the three of them walked towards the gates as the other monks tended to Brant and Axel. There mother would be highly relieved. As they passed by the trees, Omi said nothing, and Master Fung presently worried that the child had gone into a mindless coma. But then, the four-year-old looked up and glanced to the side, at the raindrops.

"...Water."

One of the drops remained where it was in the air, just in Omi's line of sight, and followed the three, keeping its position all the while as it dodged its companions. Master Fung's eyebrows rose as Dojo's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"When'd he learn how to do that?" Dojo hissed in Master Fung's ear.

Omi smiled.

* * *

**Next up: Kimiko. I haven't started yet, so I need to get cracking on her. But I've got an idea of what to do...**

**Tell me what you thought about this chapter; it would help to know what you liked or disliked. But you don't have to if you don't want to, I'm just asking…**


	3. Kimiko

A/N: Uh... I beat my writer's block. (HUZZAH!)

Welcome everyone! And thank you newcomers Irissagrl, LazyLemon, 16forever, and everyone else who reviewed! THANK YOU!!!! I really don't deserve so much praise from you guys. Oh, and a HUGE thanks to distant6 for mentioning me on her fanfic.

**EDIT:** Nothing much, here: Just me being a bit of a perfectionist

* * *

**Chapter Three: Kimiko**

Toshiro Tohomiko loved toys and games; there wasn't any doubt about that. He slept, ate, and breathed them, which, admittedly, wasn't all that hard considering his line of work. He loved his wife, dearly, and had always gone to her for advice on things he couldn't understand. His company, though fairly new, was already prospering greatly in the business world and his workers were the best anyone could ask for. But what he considered to be his greatest accomplishment in life, the gem of all gems, could be summed up in two words:

Kimiko Tohomiko.

Kimiko...Toshiro's only daughter, and his final link to his beloved wife. With each day, she looked more and more like her mother: silky black hair usually in bouncy pigtails atop a China-doll face with two sapphire eyes. She was all he had left besides two brothers and their wives, which he barely had time to visit these days.

Nonetheless, it was a healthy, joyful relationship. Toshiro always set time aside each day for his daughter, although most of the time she accompanied him to work. According to passers-by, they were two peas in a pod, and happy as clams. The child was so precious to him that he often wondered what he'd do without his daughter.

He just wished he wouldn't have to find out.

--_P_--

Black:

At the moment, Kimiko really didn't like the color.

The dress itself was pretty, but that didn't make up for the fact that it was very, _very_ itchy. Shifting uncomfortably, she glanced at her father; his face uncharacteristically drawn and worn looking, he looked roughly fifty years older than he actually was. He'd been getting worse over the past three days...

She decided to try and make contact again, and cleared her throat.

"Papa?" she asked quietly.

No response; he was really out of it today, far more than the other days.

Sighing, the five-year-old leaned back in her seat. The cellophane crackled noisily with the movement, drawing her attention back to the bouquet in her hand. Placing it on her lap, she ran one small finger along the velvety blood-red petals of the roses, smiling softly. With her other hand, she clutched Lil' Chica close to her; the doll had been her best friend (excluding Keiko, of course) for as long as she could remember. Her finger traveling down onto a long green stem now, she was careful on to prick her finger on one of the thorns again. She winced, remembering the incident from just the other day. Thorns were small, but they sure did hurt.

Kimiko's gaze left the flowers, her hand resting on them, and found she was looking in the passenger-side-mirror. The sapphire eyes in the ivory face of the reflection there looked back at her in confusion; white ribbons stood out sharply in her raven hair. She frowned. Everything else she wore was black. Why did she have white ribbons then?

Almost instinctively, she turned to ask her father, but looking at him she immediately curbed her tongue. Kimiko knew full well that she would not receive an answer. Biting her lip, the child went back to the roses on her lap.

She didn't even know where they were going. Papa had mentioned a funeral, but who's?

_Mama's_, was the immediate reply.

Anger flaring up within her, she squashed that thought with a flyswatter. _Mama is_ not _dead_, she thought firmly. Strangely enough, her brain actually believed it. ...So why were the weight in her stomach and the sharp stab in her heart saying otherwise?

When she became aware of slowing, she jerked out of her thoughts, raising her head and looking out the window. Kimiko was unfamiliar with this part of Tokyo; her life had consisted of home, the park, Keiko's house, and her dad's building. This place was different. She looked towards her father, who had parked the car and was now taking the keys out.

"Papa? What is this place?"

For the first time in thirty minutes, since they had gotten into the car, Mr. Tohomiko acknowledged his daughter's presence by turning towards her to reply. When his eyes landed on her, some of the sparkle he had lost from his eyes came back, and it was as if a few years had been lifted from his face. Kimiko couldn't help but feel relieved. Then he smiled; weakly, but he'd smiled.

"...This is where the funeral will be," he replied in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat, and smiled at her again, and this time it didn't look so forced; Mr. Tohomiko hopped out of the car, crossed to the passenger side, and opened the door for his daughter. "Come along, Kimiko," he said, his voice stronger.

Knowing better than to stall, Kimiko hopped out of the car. Shifting Lil' Chica to her other arm, the child gripped her father's hand; it dwarfed her own easily and felt strangely cold. As they approached the funeral home, she gripped the roses more strongly, the cellophane disagreeing noisily to the tightened hold.

The funeral passed by her in a blur. One second, she was entering the building, the next, she was in a graveyard. Quietly, she observed the people around her. She recognized some people: grandparents, aunts and uncles, a few cousins. There were friends of her mother's present, also. A large number of the people, she didn't even know existed. But they all shared one thing in common: everyone was looking extremely depressed. Some were crying into handkerchiefs, while others stared blankly at nothing at all. And then there were those like her father, who seemed to have cried too often and too much, so not one was left here.

Just before her, the box sat silent and gloomily beautiful. Papa had called it a coffin, which made her frown. "Coffin" was such an ugly word for the box, in her opinion. Though undeniably sad, the box had its own beauty, something she really couldn't describe at that age. Around and on top of this box were flowers, so many that Kimiko didn't even bother to try counting. So many... if Kimiko centered her gaze just right, she could imagine the box sitting atop a hill in the middle of a whole field of flowers, sitting there for so long that the flowers had decided to make it part of the landscape.

She said this to Papa, who grinned weakly at her. "Soon it _will_ be apart of the landscape...," he said, so softly that Kimiko wasn't sure if she was supposed to have heard it.

People came and went in front of the box. They said nice things about Mama, how good and kind and beautiful she was. They spoke of how her husband and child would miss her dearly. This part Kimiko would snort inwardly about. Even though she felt like crying, even though everyone else said otherwise, a part of Kimiko insisted that her mother was still somewhere, that this was all a joke.

_Must be a pretty good joke..._

This thought seemed to have planted itself, because no matter how hard she squashed it, stomped on it, ripped at it, it just wouldn't go away. And that worried her; a lot. Her brow furrowed in confusion. _Must be a pretty good joke..._

Kimiko's eyes lifted and scanned the crowd again as a stranger began to speak. This time, she spotted Keiko among the host, standing with her solemn faced parents. Keiko was also wearing a black dress; her shoulder-length black hair was held back by a white headband. She caught her friend's eye, and Keiko looked up and waved; Kimiko smiled and waved back with the bouquet, her hand never leaving her father's.

So that's where she stood the whole time. People came up to her and motioned her away as the crowd dispersed. But her father wasn't moving, so she didn't either. Kimiko remained faithfully by her father's side; she felt that he wouldn't want to be alone...

When her father finally showed a sign of life, father and daughter were quite alone in front of a filled-in grave. He cleared his throat, causing Kimiko to jump slightly. She looked up at her father nervously. To her relief, he looked a little better. Mr. Tohomiko looked down at his daughter.

"Kimiko...I think...I am ready."

Kimiko nodded, though she didn't know what to, and gave his hand a squeeze.

The two left as they had come, hand in hand, but now a bouquet lay alone on the new grave.

--_P_--

Two months passed by: two boring, uneventful months. For Kimiko, they seemed to drag. Trying to get used to things without her mother and all the while that part of her brain still insisting the woman would come back had been exhausting for her. More than once, Papa had insisted on her lying down for a little bit, she looked so tired. And she would have liked to have blamed it on the two things mentioned, but there was something else...

Nightmares had plagued her nights many times. She'd wake up in the middle of the night, sweating but not screaming, and devoid of any idea why. But in her dreams, she could recall flames dancing around her, trying to fight against a dark, cold shadow. For some time the fire seemed to be winning, but then the shadow would press downwards and smother the flames; then she would be falling down, down, down into a cavern lit by thousands of green eyes, and she would look down - that was when she'd wake up. And each time, an unexplainable terror filled her from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes.

Presently, however, Kimiko was at peace. She and Keiko were in the park, as usual, doing nothing but being themselves. Keiko's presence was extremely welcome to Kimiko, and while the girl's presence didn't completely obliterate the memories of the nightmare, it was comforting enough for Kimiko just to be sitting with her friend, eating ice cream.

But she was starting to learn that things weren't always as perfect as they seemed.

Kimiko glanced away from her friend. Just across the street stood two men, dressed in black suits and muttering to each other, she could just see.

They were staring straight at her.

"Um, who're they?" she asked Keiko's mother, who was keeping an eye on the two. The woman looked to where Kimiko was motioning, and frowned.

"...I don't know," she said at last, looking a little confused. "Perhaps they work for your father?"

Kimiko frowned as well. Usually, when her father took up a new employee, she was right there with him. Everyone who worked at the factory would have to keep an eye out for Kimiko if she somehow got out of her father's line of sight, and in that way everyone there was a friend of hers. These two men, however... she'd never clapped eyes on them before.

A black limo then pulled up in front of the two, who stopped talking immediately. Moments later, the limo left, taking the men with it.

"Good heavens!" The voice of Keiko's mother caused Kimiko to jump. "It's almost four thirty!"

As one, Kimiko and Keiko groaned. Four thirty was when Kimiko had to go back to her father's building, since no one was at home. As the children finished the last of their ice cream, all three walked to the car. Before entering, however, something caught Kimiko's eye, and she stopped, feeling confused.

"Kimiko?" asked Keiko. "Are you okay?"

The girl took her time in answering. "...Yes," she said at last, hopping into the car and strapping herself in the seatbelt. This seemed to be good enough for Keiko, for she shrugged and hopped into the seat next to the only Tohomiko child.

Throughout the trip, Kimiko laughed and joked with Keiko, like they always did. But a part of her young mind remained confused by what she'd seen. More than once, Keiko had been forced to bring her friend back to reality. Try as she might, Miss Tohomiko couldn't be distracted from her distraction. Frowning again, she glanced out the rear window and settled back in her seat, feeling even more confused. That was the third time she'd seen it...

The black limo was following her.

--_P_--

Left to enter the building alone, Kimiko trotted up the steps and through the doors. Distracted as she was, the girl allowed her feet and take her to her father's office. Why was the car following her around? It was puzzling to her. But she certainly knew that she didn't like it one little bit.

Opening the door to her father's office without her mind really registering it, Kimiko jumped badly when someone hailed her from the room.

"Kimiko!"

She finally looked where she was going, and grinned widely. "Papa!"

Running towards him, Kimiko was highly relieved how much better her father was looking. In fact, Mr. Tohomiko was looking better than ever; the sparkle in his eyes was back, the strained lines gone...though not completely. But they were leaving, and that was what mattered. The spring back in his step and the jollity returned to his voice, it was hard to connect him with the near-silent, old looking man that he had been two months ago. Kimiko was getting her father back...but, she realized, not entirely...

Then she was caught up in his usual hug, a hug that never seemed to lose itself or fade with time. But, as usual since the funeral, the hug lasted a little longer than normal. It was almost as if he were afraid of letting her go...

When they pulled away from each other, Mr. Tohomiko beamed at his daughter. There was a glint in his eye that told her he was on to something big. And Papa was rarely wrong about these things... "Here, Kimiko! I just came up with a new idea." He turned to shuffle through a desk drawer, and Kimiko noticed that his gaze avoided a certain photo on top of the desk. He came back up, grinning, and handed something to her. "Give it a look."

Mr. Tohomiko kept a notepad nearby, just in case he came up with something big. He would always share his ideas with Kimiko; together, they'd talk about the possibilities this game offered. The child was surprisingly gifted in coming up with ideas. However, if the game was meant for an age group beyond her own, she was only there for "emotional support" as he put it. All the same, if he thought up something, she was always the first to know.

Excited, Kimiko took the book with trembling hands, the energy pent up within her. She was aware of her father at her shoulder, peering at the book. Her fingers flipped through pages of past ideas, seeing each success in her mind's eye. Her hand stopped on the newest page, and her eyes blinked.

"'Goo Zombies'?" she read, looking at her father.

"Yes, Kimiko," he said, eyes sparkling. "But it may take time...this will be an all-new format, one not meant for us just yet. It's going to be huge, I can feel it; I know it, Kimiko!"

Kimiko loved it when her father got like this. It usually meant an extended amount of time of exuberance on his part, and it was always pretty entertaining to watch, especially when she was right there with him. But she was particularly grateful for this newest "attack" her mother had called them. She knew that it was just what she needed, what they _both_ needed, to get out of their funk; while her father looked fine, Kimiko knew that he wasn't.

For one thing...

"Ah Kimiko, your moth-" Almost predictably, Mr. Tohomiko hesitated.

...he never mentioned her.

Kimiko tilted her head to the side and gave her father a look. "...Papa?"

Mr. Tohomiko shook himself, and blinked, looking a little dazed. "...I am fine, Kimiko."

The five-year-old pursed her lips; when she opened her mouth, she was cut off by the doors opening behind them. She jumped and leapt into her father's arms, clinging to Lil' Chica for dear life.

They stood framed in the doorway: two men in black suits. One was tall and formidable-looking, the other a little shorter but looked like he was meant for speed; and what they were doing in her father's office she really didn't know. However, the fact that they looked eerily familiar was simply answered. These two men were the same ones she'd seen on the street.

"Gentlemen!" said Mr. Toshiro, face lighting up. Gently depositing Kimiko to her feet on the floor, he walked briskly towards them, hand outstretched. The fast-looking man, who had bright gold hair Kimiko noted, grasped her father's hand first, smiling a little. The other, dark-skinned with a little quieter air about him, followed the action, though he didn't smile; whether out of respect or something else, she wasn't sure. "Yes, yes, right on time! I was a little distracted, I'm afraid." Kimiko's father flashed her a good-natured wink, and she smiled back as best she could. "Here, let me introduce you."

He motioned the men over as he walked to Kimiko, who had a desperate urge to run but her feet seemed to have lost the signals from her brain. Up close, the two men were much taller than she'd thought. She swallowed, and her father's arm around her shoulders brought less comfort than usual.

"Sirs, this is my daughter, Kimiko," her father beamed, hugging her close to his side; when he lessened his grip, Kimiko didn't move, for her arm was fastened tightly around her father. "She is the one that helps me with my projects. Kimiko, these are Mr. Austin-" The blonde man nodded. "-and Mr. Blaze." The tall man inclined his head slightly to her.

Mr. Austin stepped forward, shaking Kimiko's hand. "Kimiko Tohomiko; it's an honor," he said, in a voice that made him sound like he was in his early twenties. She nodded hesitantly.

"It certainly is an unexpected pleasure to shake the hand of Mr. Tohomiko's daughter," said the deep, smooth voice of Mr. Blaze. He didn't shake her hand, but he did smile, which held a warmth Kimiko hadn't expected.

Her father beamed at her, saying, "These are my new employees."

--_P_--

"So, Kimiko, how did you like them?"

Night had fallen, and Kimiko was still allowed to be up. Not that she was complaining, mind you; it was just a little strange. It wasn't everyday that she was permitted to be up at nine o'clock in the nighttime. She lay on her stomach, in front of the crackling fire in the fireplace, as her father sat in his favorite armchair, newspaper open in front of him. The scene was, for the lack of a better phrase, picture-perfect, excluding the fact that one thing was missing...

Kimiko turned her blue gaze from the flames, looked at her father briefly, and resumed her fire-staring, shrugging. "They're okay..."

Mr. Tohomiko's voice was a little more than hurt. "You don't approve?"

"What? No! Er, I mean, yes! Er, I mean..." She sighed. "I don't know..."

"You don't like the bodyguards?"

Kimiko wrinkled her nose at the name. It sounded like they were meant to go around guarding her body while her brain went on vacation.

"I...I don't understand...why they have to follow me," she mumbled at last.

"It's only temporary, Kimiko," Mr. Tohomiko reassured his daughter. "Things just need to be sorted out, that's all."

Biting her lip, she didn't answer; instead, she proceeded to study the carpet with a little more fascination than needed in a five-year-old. Behind her, paper rustled and crackled, while the flames popped and sizzled, whooshing as they danced and cast shadows everywhere. She heard her father shift in his seat a little... and then a little more...and then a little more... Automatically, she started counting down: _Three...two...one..._ Right on cue, she heard him sigh, fold the paper, and rise out of his chair.

_I'm going to get something to eat, Kimiko_, she thought.

"I'm going to get something to eat, Kimiko," he said, and Kimiko smiled to herself. "Would you like anything?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No thank you, Papa."

In her mind's eye, Kimiko saw her father shrug. "Alright then."

Kimiko barely heard her father leave. She was preoccupied with odd little thoughts going through her head, things that really didn't make sense, and weren't supposed to make sense. Settling on her elbows and cupping her chin in her hands, she stared at the fire. Kimiko always had a strange fascination with fire, something that she couldn't really put her finger on. But she never got enough of how the flames danced in front of her, weaving to and fro before her eyes, reeling her in and at the same time pushing her away, until at last she was swaying with a rhythm only she knew, and she and the fire were dancing with each other. It was a nice feeling, getting lost in the heat and the dance only she understood.

Absentmindedly, she brought a hand to her hair, and twirled one strand around her finger. She could at last comb her hair without anyone's help. Though mama would insist that she help once in a while, and Kimiko didn't mind all that much.

It seemed like years since the last time...

_Kimiko sat in her mother's room; Mrs. Tohomiko hadn't left the bed in a long while. She had gradually been changing into someone Kimiko really didn't know; her face was pale and turning gaunt, and her hair fell long and lank, as though it had not been washed for many days. But her eyes... those were recognizable; the glow there had not diminished, and looking into them Kimiko could see her mother, her real mother, not this cheap imitation before her, looking back at her._

_And all the same - no one knew how she did it - Mrs. Tohomiko still looked beautiful._

_The frail woman in the bed raised one thin hand, smiling weakly. "Kimiko... let me comb your hair."_

_Kimiko hesitated. The doctor had said quite firmly that her mother wasn't to be disturbed, that no one should bother her. When Kimiko repeated this, Mrs. Tohomiko laughed, albeit a hoarse, sick one._

_"But I asked to do it; you aren't bothering me." A pleading look suddenly entered her eyes. "Please Kimiko...please..."_

_Haltingly, Kimiko placed each foot in front of the other, until she climbed up onto the bed and sat in her mother's lap, who had weakly shifted into a sitting position. The sick woman untied the ribbons holding the child's pigtails with trembling fingers, and then she felt the woman's fingers running through the soft black strands. Then, softly, Kimiko felt the slight tug of a comb being drawn through her long locks of hair._

_They sat in silence, Kimiko sitting quietly, just as she always did, as her mother combed her hair. For a moment, one gentle, quiet moment, Kimiko could imagine that they were in the window seat on a late summer afternoon, her mother singing gently as the comb ran through the black hair._

_But they weren't in the window seat, and it wasn't a summer afternoon. They were in her sick mother's bed, on a late summer morning. And she wasn't singing; Kimiko distinctly heard her sobbing; quietly, but sobbing._

_"Mama?" asked Kimiko, turning her head slightly to see her mother. "What's wrong?"_

_She heard her mother give a hearty sniff, and say, "Nothing, Kimiko. Nothing..."_

_Later that night, Kimiko's father had come out of her mother's room and held her close, as the doctor snapped in bag shut..._

Feeling a tiny tear on her cheek, Kimiko raised a hand to brush it away.

The flames leapt up and out, never leaving the grate.

With a yelp, Kimiko sprang to her feet and backed away a few steps.

"KIMIKO?" The panic in her father's voice was almost as frightening as the previous incident. Something hit the floor loudly in the kitchen, there were hurried footsteps, and Kimiko was in her father's arms, his voice a flurry of panicking words.

"Are you alright? What happened? _DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!_ Kimiko, Kimiko...what happened?"

"I...I'm...fine...," said Kimiko, looking at the flames in confusion.

--_P_--

Well, she had to say, being shoved between two strangers wasn't all bad... Mr. Austin liked to share jokes, and Mr. Blaze, though fairly quiet, had a gentle side unexpected of his large stature, and had actually plucked a flower and placed it in her hair; the yellow bloom perfectly matched her yellow dress, as he had said blushing a little and causing her to laugh.

Of all the things Kimiko had been expecting, this wasn't one of them. She hadn't expected to have _fun_ with these two men. She'd expected to be marching sullenly between two guys who didn't say anything and always frowned. But apparently, life was full of surprises.

Not that she trusted them _completely_. She was almost certain that these were the guys sitting in the limo that had followed her. But then again, Papa had already hired them, so...maybe they were just doing their job? Kimiko didn't really know what to believe at that moment in time.

That all changed, however, when she spotted a limo parked almost casually across the street.

Nodding over to it, she said, "Don't you have a car like that?"

Mr. Austin looked at it, and shook his head. "Nah. I take it you guessed we were watching you yesterday?" When she nodded, he grinned. "Sharp kid. No, that was one of your dad's. Why?"

"Nothing, I just thought I saw-"

She stopped in mid-sentence. There were a few men walking by and into a building with a huge, empty parking lot at the end of the street. She and Keiko had always seen it when going to the park, but it had never been part of their interests. Now, however...

"You thought you saw what?" asked Mr. Blaze.

"...It's not important," she said, eyes never leaving place the men had disappeared into.

It just wasn't that they were carrying boxes. They could've been carrying those for any number of reasons. No, it was the fact that she had distinctly seen her father's symbol on one box that hadn't been disguised as well as its companions. She turned to point this out to Mr. Austin, but suddenly realized that she had stopped walking. Her bodyguards were a little way ahead. She opened her mouth to call to them, but then she felt someone grab her.

So she did the thing that came naturally:

Scream.

"_HELP_!"

In the flurry of action that followed, Kimiko lost herself. She remembered shouts, feet running, Mr. Blaze racing over and punching the would-be abductor square in the jaw, while Mr. Austin intercepted another man that had snuck up on them all, almost unnoticed. Then her own two feet were carrying her away from it all, and where they were going she neither knew nor really cared to know. She was flying past fences, cars, even through doors, only wanting to get away, far away, to crawl under her covers and feel her mother's soft hand stroking her hair...just one more time.

And suddenly, she felt a hand grip her arm and a foul-smelling cloth was pressed to her face. Her brain started feeling fuzzy, and she was falling...

--_P_--

Her head was heavy. Everything ached. It even hurt to _think_.

There were voices nearby, muffled and intelligible. Kimiko had no desire to find out whose voices they were; she could only remain where she was and wait for everything to come back into focus.

"I'm telling you, we could go higher."

"Well, it's no good getting too greedy..."

There was a radio going on in the background. It sounded panicked, chattering about someone who was missing, and also about something else...something that was causing a lot of trouble...

Kimiko opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, in a black basement, rafters high above her. Rows and rows of wooden shelves, packed with cans and other goods, surrounded her, but she could just see at the end of the aisle she was now in, a light coming in at a slant...a staircase, she realized.

When she became aware of an empty space in the crook of her arm, she looked around and then straight up. Lil' Chica hung from the wooden beams above.

"Lil' Chica!" she gasped out.

It seemed that was what the two men had been waiting for. Their heads snapped to her, and they grinned.

"Well," said one. "Well, well, well."

"Looks like princess is awake!" said the other.

Kimiko looked from one to the other; she couldn't really make out their features, but they emanated something Kimiko really didn't like. She scooted away from them, looking from one to the other warily. Behind them, a third sat, watching everything...

"Go ahead," said the first, almost wryly. "You're not going anywhere."

"Why?" she said, a little more bravely than she had intended.

The other snorted. "Because your daddy'll want you to go home, and we'll give you back to him...for a price."

"It was smart of him to put those two lackeys on your tail, but in the end that just helps us. Not many others go to that length, I'll grant him that."

Kimiko was pretty certain there were other things going on, but her confused mind either couldn't or didn't want to take it all in at the moment. She was in a basement with two strangers, mean ones unlike the two she had quickly become fond of.

"You're why Mr. Austin and Mr. Blaze were following me?" she said at last.

"Yep," said the second man. "He had gotten wise that someone was stealing from the company...not soon enough, unfor-"

The words were out of her mouth before Kimiko could comprehend their meaning. "I want mama."

That seemed to surprise them. The two men paused, and looked at each other. Or at least, that's what she thought they did. Then they turned their attention back to the child before them. She wasn't sure, but Kimiko thought that she saw the light catch one of their eyes, and there was a strange look in them. And then, for the first time, the third spoke.

"Shut up. You don't have one."

For some reason, that rubbed Kimiko the wrong way.

"I – WANT – MAMA!" she screamed, in a manner not befitting to herself.

"Kid, you're mother's dead," the first said cruelly.

Kimiko froze; instinctively she hugged her Lil' Chica doll, the only problem being was that it was still hanging from the ceiling. Tears burst at the corners of her eyes. _They're right..._ "You're wrong," she said automatically, shaking her head.

"Face it kid; you don't have a mom."

_Momma's gone._ "She'll be back; she has to come back." Her voice slipped to a whimper. "She has to..."

"You can't come back from the dead, stupid."

_No, no, no, no..._ "_NO_!"

That's when it happened: suddenly, fire was everywhere. Where they came from, no one knew. But they were there; they were everywhere. Kimiko, eyes closed and her face in her hands, was only aware of the roar of flames. Through the cracks in her fingers, the orange-red glow pressed against her eyelids; she knew that she was in the middle of an inferno, but strangely...she wasn't scared. She felt the fire, could feel the heat, smelled the smoke, but she was strangely untouched.

Tentatively, Kimiko opened her eyes and peeked through her fingers. Orange and red greeted her blue gaze. Lowering her hands, she remained where she was, fascination mixing with fear, as she looked around. The men were gone, or maybe she just couldn't see them, and Lil' Chica...she was gone, too. But the flames were there; in fact, they were everywhere. She was in midair, in a dome of air surrounded by flames. If she had floated unnoticed into a dream, she neither knew nor cared. Some part of her was saying she should be scared... but she wasn't; the fire was comforting, whispering to her things she really didn't understand but welcomed all the same.

And then there was a familiar voice...

"..Kimiko...?"

Kimiko turned to look behind her. And there...right there...was her mother. She was just as she always had been: delicate, beautiful, radiant, with a warm smile and bright eyes. Kimiko's eyes were stinging, and something was running down her cheeks, something soft and wet. But she didn't care. A dull ache in her heart that she had almost completely forgotten about suddenly burst out in full. Her voice trembling, Kimiko stammered, "...M-mama?"

Mrs. Tohomiko's smile saddened. She nodded.

Kimiko ran towards her. She wanted to feel her mother's arms again, to hear a gentle lullaby once more. Fifteen feet...ten feet...two feet...Kimiko was almost in her mother's arms...

...and she ran straight through the woman.

Shock froze her feet in place; Kimiko was starting to feel a little queasy. What was that?

"Kimiko..."

The five-year-old hesitated to greet the call. Then, slowly, hesitantly, she turned on the spot. Her mother was still there, solid-looking as ever; the sadness in her face made Kimiko want to release a howl in her throat. Mrs. Tohomiko looked at her daughter, Kimiko acutely aware of the mournful glimmer in her mother's eyes.

"You know what this means, Kimiko..."

"No!" Finally giving voice to the persistent voice in her head, Kimiko shook her head, hair bouncing around her face and tears flying everywhere. "No, no, you can't be gone, you can't be!"

"I'm not gone, Kimiko...not completely," said her mother gently.

"But you ARE gone!" cried Kimiko. "You're dead! You're dead! You're gone!"

Kimiko stopped speaking, her eyes widening as she raised a hand to her mouth. The voice in her head suddenly faded and vanished from existence. She admitted it. She knew...

_...Knew._

Once again, Kimiko ran towards her mother, feeling but not hearing a cry leaving her throat.

_You knew..._

She tripped over her own feet; the hand she threw out to catch herself went straight through the woman before her, met nothing...

_You always knew, didn't you?_

And then she was falling, falling into the orange flames...

_...You always knew._

--_P_--

_...Wake up._

Kimiko's eyes opened. Dark...everything was dark. She blinked, and her eyes adjusted. The child was on her back...returned to the basement. But...everything seemed a little blacker than before. Slowly, she sat up, putting a hand to her head. Stumbling to her feet, she looked around.

Somewhere in the room, someone was groaning in pain; it sounded like, whoever it was, they were dragging something at an excruciatingly slow pace. Kimiko's fear came back swiftly, though not so much this time. Just before her, on the floor, large, red, and glistening, paw-prints led away from the scene of the fire, in the direction of the groans. There was a low snarl, and Kimiko glanced in its direction. Green eyes scowled at her from the darkness; she blinked, and they were gone. Paw-steps crossed the room, went up the stairs, and then...silence. And the man was still groaning. Kimiko moved slowly forward, eyes flicking back and forth; the girl looked behind her, and something dropped right in front of her eyes.

Lil' Chica; she hung by her pull string, and half of the doll was burned to a crisp, only one eye salvaged.

A scream shot through the air like a knife.

--_P_--

"_...Ki...ko?"_

Ouch.

_"...Kim...ko? Are..."_

Her head hurt, badly. Each throb was like an individual heartbeat.

_"...An...er if y...ca...ear...voice..."_

She didn't know where she was, or why she was lying on a cold floor, or really anything for that matter. All that Kimiko knew was that she felt strangely warm, and someone, a boy, was calling her name, as though from a phone with bad reception. It was a stranger's voice to her memory, but something in her...it felt like she knew the voice. Snatches of words flickered past her ears, as an unfamiliar breeze brushed past; were there others with the boy? The girl thought she could hear three other voices... She wanted to know what they said, respond, but at the same time she just wanted to remain in this strange limbo for a long time. Not forever; she wanted Papa too much for that long. But then the voice began sliding into a different voice.

"_...Kimi...o? Wake_ up. Kimiko?"

It was useless to fight it now.

With a small groan, Kimiko forced her heavy eyelids open; everything was out of focus. The blue of the sky, the smell of the sea, and a boy kneeling before her; she could see brown hair and green eyes. She blinked, and the world righted itself, the image replaced with the basement, where she was _supposed_ to be...sort of.

Suddenly, the girl became aware of something strange on her head, but her arms didn't have the strength to touch it at the moment. And there was noise, too; noise that she didn't really understand. She'd deal with that later. Leaning over her was a young man with a kind face and worried brown eyes. Seeing her awake, he grinned widely at her, which she weakly returned.

"Ah, good, you're awake. For a moment there we thought we'd lost you."

Though smiling as best she could, Kimiko's eyes couldn't mask her confusion. This man...he hadn't been the one calling her. The other voice sounded as though it belonged to someone younger than this man, with an accent she didn't recognize. She shook her head; not a good idea.

"What's wrong?" The man's voice sounded worried through the jab of pain that had infiltrated her head. Struggling not to cry, she opened her eyes and whimpered, her watery blue gaze meeting the concerned frown of the stranger.

"My head hurts," she whimpered.

He nodded in understanding. "It would; you've got a pretty bad blow to the head there."

Lifting her hand to the strange feeling at last, her searching fingertips came in contact was some sort of material. _Bandages_, she thought. _I really __**am**__ hurt._ Worried, she looked back up at the kind stranger kneeling before her. Then she realized what the noise was. Sitting up slowly, she saw that the basement was now filled with strangers, studying the ground, everything... Po-lease-men, Papa had called them. A thought hit her with sudden force.

"Wh-where's Papa?" she asked in a trembling voice. For a moment, she worried that he'd say the wrong name.

"Mr. Tohomiko?" Yep, that was her papa's name, alright. She nodded slowly. "He's outside, waiting. Come on..."

Looking distracted, the man looked upwards. She looked, too; Lil' Chica was still hanging there. Swallowing another scream of terror, she shut her eyes against the sight of her once beloved, now mangled doll.

Sensing the child's distress, he stepped forward, picked her up, and carried her out of the building. She kept her face buried in his shoulder. All the while, he spoke softly to her, things that soothed the outer edges of her nerves but not striking the problem. She didn't want to know where they were going. She just wanted papa.

"...Um, kid?"

_I want papa._

"Kid..."

_Papa, Papa, Papa, Papa..._

"You can let go now."

She opened her eyes, and looked up. The child was now outside... and in front of a field of police cars. Red and blue winked everywhere like stars. Her eyes widened.

"You're dad might've overreacted just slightly..."

"Not her father," said a passing officer distractedly. "Everyone did."

The policeman nodded, frowning. He set her down on her feet, and looked at her. "Well, Miss Tohomiko, looks like you've been through a battle of your own."

Kimiko blinked. _A battle of my own? What does that mean?_ She blinked at him in confusion.

"Don't speak much, eh?" he chuckled. Then he bit his lip, looking a little torn. "Look, I'm supposed to be reporting to my officer right now...but I think you'll be wanting your father, right?" When she nodded vigorously, he sighed. "I thought you would. Unfortunately, I don't know where he is..."

"I'll take her off your hands," said a voice.

The policeman's eyes looked up, and she saw his jaw hit the ground, eyes becoming as round as dinner plates. Kimiko turned to see a tall, official-looking man with bright-red hair, dressed in a business suit. He nodded to the other. "You need to see to things down there; I'll take her to Tohomiko."

He nodded, adverting his gaze. "Yes, sir," he said. Giving Kimiko's arm a reassuring squeeze, he headed back to where he came, and it was just her and the red-haired man.

The red-head came down into a squatting position. "You're Kimiko Tohomiko, aren't you? No need to look so surprised," he chuckled at the incredulous look she gave him. "You look just like your mother. I wouldn't be surprised if you became her twin!"

When she didn't answer, the smile didn't leave his face, but something akin to understanding flickered across his dark eyes. He stuck out a hand for her to shake. "Frederick; but you can call me Fred, if you wish."

Still feeling a little stunned, Kimiko shook his hand mutely. She blinked, and they were walking through the police cars, his hand protectively herding her through the maze of flashing lights and men speaking into their radios. It was all a very surreal dream to Kimiko, who wasn't all that sure of where her brain had gone off to but really wished she could've gone along with it. Frederick walked quietly with her, as though understanding she couldn't really talk right then. Pretty soon, however, a sight came to her blue eyes that shoved itself into focus: her father sat on the hood of a police car, wrapped in a blanket and staring at the asphalt. At this moment, Frederick spoke.

"Kimiko, you're, what, five years old?" She looked at him and nodded mutely. "Yeah, I thought so... I've got a son about your age. Although, I must say, Jack's not quite as well behaved as you are," he said with a wink, as though they were sharing a private joke; Kimiko didn't know why, but she could feel herself grin a little.

Her attention was soon back on her father, and they stopped a few feet in front of him. Exchanging a glance with Kimiko, Frederick cleared his throat. "Toshiro?"

Mr. Tohomiko jumped as though he'd been bitten. He looked up, saw Kimiko, and his jaw dropped, as though he couldn't believe his own eyes.

"K-Kimiko?" he gasped out.

"Yes," said Frederick; Mr. Tohomiko's head snapped in the red-head's direction, and it was almost as though his surprise knew no bounds. "You've got a brave little girl here, Toshiro."

The Japanese man blinked a few times, then seemed to come back to himself. "...Thank you." He raised an eyebrow. "I did not know you were one for such acts of kindness, Frederick."

Frederick shrugged, smiling good-naturedly. "Well, we all have a side we'd rather others not see, don't you think? People could take advantage of it." He paused, as though thinking over something he wanted to say, but then he shrugged and settled with, "It was nice seeing you again, Toshiro."

"Yes...," said Mr. Tohomiko, nodding slowly. "The same for me."

Then a man Kimiko could only assume was Frederick's personal assistant walked up, saying, "Your wife Aliza is on the line, Mr. Spicer."

"Thank you," Frederick said. Nodding one last time to Mr. Tohomiko, and smiling at Kimiko, he walked after his assistant and disappeared amidst the cars and bustle that didn't quite seem to touch the two Tohomikos.

Kimiko looked back at Mr. Tohomiko, only to find she couldn't quite meet his gaze. Every fiber of her being wanted to race up to him and hug him, just forget the whole day... But something held her back. She stared at the ground.

"Mama's really gone, isn't she?"

Biting his lip, Mr. Tohomiko blinked away tears in his eyes and nodded. Squeezing her eyes shut, Kimiko climbed up onto her father's lap, where she was surrounded by his warm arms, overcome by his unique scent. The tears were coming now, as she buried her face into his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she whimpered. "I'm really sorry. I knew she was gone, but I couldn't..."

"It's not your fault," he responded, sounding as though he was speaking through a head cold. "There wasn't anything anyone could do..."

_Nothing anyone could do...You always knew..._ Two sentences bounced around her head like a broken record. Soon enough, she couldn't remember the order they came in, and said something a little different:

_You always knew...Nothing anyone could do..._

You always knew there was nothing anyone could do? What did that mean? Unless...

Kimiko glanced up at her father. Maybe...that was why...

She pulled away from Mr. Tohomiko so she could look into his face. Softly, she told him, "You always knew there was nothing anyone could do." Kimiko squeezed his arm. "It's not your fault, Papa. Honestly it isn't."

For several, very long moments, father and daughter stared right at each other. Then Mr. Tohomiko broke down, and hugged his daughter close to him; she felt the top of her head become wet with salty tears.

"Kimiko," he said quietly through the tears, "what would I do without you?"

Not answering, the little girl returned the hug, feeling herself being rocked back and forth. For the first time in hours, she was safe. And she was keeping someone else safe for the first time. It felt good, especially because it was her father. Deep inside, she felt the tiny flicker of the flames, and smiled.

She was content; safe in her father's arms.

* * *

**YAY! I survived!**

**So, up next: Clay. I've already started him, but I'll have little time to really work on him. So if it's really, REALLY delayed, you'll understand, I hope; if I manage to get him up by Saturday, it'll be a miracle.**

**Anyway, feel free to give me your opinion of this chapter. Review!**


	4. Clay

A/N: Oh...my...gosh. You guys... –tears up- THANK YOU!

Wow. My stats were suddenly reset. Weird... –"Twilight Zone" theme plays-

I'm sorry about the wait, people. Stupid writer's block (as expected) popped up out of nowhere, and then the "Goblet of Fire" midnight showing...then my sister coming to visit from college...AND HOMEWORK! –growls- But the tri's over, sooo...yeah. Anyway, here it is.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Clay**

It was sort of like in the horror films.

Everything's happy, fine and dandy, nothing could go wrong... you get it... when, suddenly, the characters hear the most horrible thing in the world...

"Where are my grandkids?" An old woman's scratchy voice hit the eardrums of her grandchildren with the same quality as nails on a chalkboard. "Clayie Wayie? Jesse Wessie?"

The two children in question stopped what they were doing to exchange a look of horror.

"Run!" hissed the boy.

His sister didn't need to be told twice.

Six-year-old Clay Bailey ran flat out across the family Texas cow ranch, right on the heels of his five-year-old sister Jesse. It was obvious the two were siblings, although with select differences. Both of them had sun-gold hair, though the girl's was a touch lighter shade. The same sky-blue eyes, though his contained warmth and a touch of being down-to-earth not usually seen in boys his age, while hers were bright and feisty. As they ran, they both clutched cowboy hats to their heads, no words passing between them as they made for the only safe place they knew.

Dodging and weaving across the flat land, the pair made a beeline for the barn. Reaching it, Clay opened it silently and waited for Jesse to go in before entering the sanctuary himself. Hearing the barn doors close, the young, solitary milking cow looked at them and snorted while turning away from them as though to say _Oh, it's __**you**__ again._

"Hi Bessie!" the children chorused before diving into the nearest haystack. The cowbell jingled slightly as the animal shook herself and went back to the hay before her. Same old, same old.

This was the normal routine when Granny Lily came to visit. The children remained in the hay until they were absolutely certain that their grandmother was settled in their room; even then, they walked around their own home on tiptoe, ears strained for Granny Lily's rasp, "There y' are!"

That was the odd thing about Clay. Usually, even for a small six-year-old (though arguably, Clay was a bit more sturdily built than most boys, making him seem a little taller) Clay held no fear in a situation. A trait his father liked to boast about was how hard it was to make his son lose his head.

Thunderstorms? He outgrew them when he was two.

Rattlers? Well, he'd jump a little, but for the most part he kept calm.

Performing? ...Let's just say he needed work on that...

But there was no doubt in this: invite Granny Lily over for a few days, and Clay had saddled up a horse and was on the prairie faster than you could yelp.

Despite this odd fear of his grandmother, Clay was actually a pretty intelligent boy. Although still in his youth, he was a quick learner, and though very quiet; though often mistaken for a sign of being dull in the head, it was just that he liked to observe what was around him, look at things from all angles. So, naturally, his father favored him when going on a cattle drive and such.

Jesse, on the other hand...

It wasn't that she was a _bad_ girl. It was just...even at young age of five years Jessica Hanna Bailey had her own agenda. She was certainly quick, and intelligent of course, but she liked to use these particular talents for...less savory activities in her father's eyes, and sometimes even in her mother's. Her parents loved her, every bit as much as they loved Clay, but she was a child that it was easy to get frustrated with.

The Bailey monarch had tried to channel this energy of hers into something worthwhile, but...well, if it hadn't been for some quick thinking and action from Clay, most of the herd would probably still be wandering around the prairie. Try as they might to deal with her, no matter how much they loved her, Mr. and Mrs. Bailey just couldn't handle their daughter.

That's why it was so puzzling to see the two get along so well.

So there they were, brother and sister, cowering in a haystack until the danger had passed. They glanced at Jesse's watch every now and then. One minute...five minutes...twenty minutes... Centimeter by annoyingly small centimeter, the minute hand crept around the watch face. Eventually (in what seemed like ten years for the siblings) an hour passed, and they could hear the dinner bell ringing. The two looked at each other.

"...I'll go first," said Clay finally. Jesse nodded in silent agreement.

Reluctantly, the two clambered out of the hay, and promptly started brushing each other off. It was best to leave the evidence of their safe place behind. Together, they made sure each stalk remained within the barn doors. Satisfied with how Jesse looked, Clay turned to leave.

"Wait," she said. When he turned, Jesse reached up and plucked a strand of hay from her brother's hat. "Okay, you're good."

Nodding almost grimly to each other, they turned and marched out the barn, tipping their hats to Bessie before closing the barn doors. The two siblings walked as slowly as they dared toward the house, heads high and backs straight, both with the air of one who was walking to the gallows and wasn't ashamed in the least bit of their crime.

All too soon, they had come to the house. Quietly, Clay and Jesse walked up the front steps, across the patio, and through the front doors, each silently dreading the dinner table, where their escape from Granny Lily was far less likely. They were outside the kitchen door now. Clay swallowed, and Jesse gripped his hand comfortingly, looking at him the way a small child stares at a war hero. Clay nodded again, determined, and, inhaling deeply, pressed his back to the wall and crept along it until he could crane his neck to look into the kitchen. Rapidly, his blue eyes flashed around the room, and he dodged back. He breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at his sister.

"She's not there," he said. Her face lightened visibly; then she blinked, and dropped her brother's hand.

"Well, why're you standin' there like a stuck pig then?" she said brusquely, brushing past him. "I'm starved!"

Grinning, Clay shook his head and followed after, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Where's Granny Lily?" he asked his mother casually. A kind, plump woman, Mrs. Bailey was not only a wonderful cook, but also, as her husband put it, a "crafts fiend". She had chestnut hair pulled into a smart bun on the back of her head, and her sparkling eyes were a gentle hazel. Pausing briefly in the food's transfer from the oven to the table, she looked at her oldest and winked.

"Well, she had a rough trip," Mrs. Bailey said with a shrug. "Figured she'd just rest awhile before eatin', y'know?"

Clay grinned broadly and nodded just as Mr. Bailey stomped into the room, obviously ready for a meal.

--_P_--**  
**

Clay could still taste the food on the tip of his tongue, and it had been two hours since the Bailey clan had finished the meal. That was the nice thing about Mom's cooking: it lingered for longer than the meal itself did.

Right now, Clay and Jesse were playing (or, more accurately, roughhousing) with each other, and as usual Clay felt himself going a little easy on his sister. He knew that Jessie didn't mind, but he also knew that if she found out, he was in for one of the worst tongue-lashings of his life. Daddy Bailey was seated in an armchair in front of the fire, reading the newspaper with a frown. As the two sprinted into the room, giggling, they heard him give a disbelieving snort.

"If y'ask me, I'd say the press is getting hungry for a good story," he grumbled to himself from behind the papers. The two children stopped as they rounded the chair, blinked at each other, and then at their father.

"What's that mean?" asked Jesse.

Sighing, Daddy Bailey folded the paper and set it on the small table next to him. "It's just hogwash, Jesse; no need to pay attention to it," he said. He got up and walked out of the room. But after a moment he paused, as though just thinking of something, and turned to his children.

"I'm just going to get some water. I'll be back," said the man warningly. With that, he disappeared through the doorway.

Again, the children looked at each other. After a moment, Clay looked back to the vacated seat and spotted a newspaper headline: TOKYO TOPSY-TURVY. Just below was a picture; his curiosity piqued, Clay walked over and picked up the paper. It was a dark picture, and his inquiring eyes just managed to see a cat-like shape before he saw, out of the corner of his eye, just what his little sister was up to now that she was free of his watchful gaze.

"_Jesse_!" he gasped, dropping the paper immediately.

For his sister had just done something she really shouldn't have. Jesse was holding, with wondering eyes, the Lone Star of Texas.

Clay really didn't know how she'd gotten hold of it; the bolero tie was, for the most part, right beneath Daddy Bailey's chin. But lo and behold, there it was, gleaming innocently in the firelight. A gold five-pointed star with a ruby center and intricately carved designs round about, the heirloom had been in the family for generations, dating way back to when it was dug up in 1849.

There were two very important rules about the Lone Star: Number One, it was passed down from daddy to son; but Clay knew that it would be a very important date, because he would only get it when he proved himself to be a man. But, only being six years old, there was no chance of that running currently, so the only rule applying to him and his sister was Number Two:

Don't touch.

"What in tarnation d'you think you're _doing_?" hissed Clay, marching over to his sister.

Jesse held the item beyond her brother's reach. "I'm only lookin', honest!" she said; well, pouted, to be more precise. "Besides," she added, eyes narrowing uncharacteristically at him, "I know I'll never be able to lay hands on it again; that's _your_ job. So I'm just lookin' while the lookin's good!"

"Do you have any idea what Daddy'll _do_ to you if he sees you holdin' that?" Clay whispered urgently, struggling to grab the Lone Star. But to his complete bafflement, his sister was somehow outmaneuvering him, no matter what he did. "You'll be _worse_ than dead!"

"So what if I end up buzzard feed?" snapped Jesse, looking irritated as she danced out of Clay's grasp. She was having difficulty now, for as the urgency of the situation grew, Clay began to pull out more and more stops. "I _just_ – _want_ – _to_ – _look_!"

At that moment, Clay lunged at his sister. With a yelp, she stumbled backwards, towards the fireplace; her brother caught her by the shirt collar just in time, but the Lone Star slipped from her grasp. Horrified, the siblings watched as the bolero tie twirled through the air, making an odd humming noise as it went, and landed smack-dab in the middle of the fire.

Next thing he knew, Jesse was screaming like there was no tomorrow, and he was about to join in. He heard himself yelling to Jesse to get the tongs, which she handed to him in the blink of an eye. Quickly, he reached in and snatched the golden item from the heart of the blaze. In his haste, he stumbled backwards into his sister and they both crashed into the armchair with two identical yelps.

His eyes closed, Clay didn't want to see the inevitable. He knew that his father would be storming into the room at any second, for no one could have ignored the hullabaloo the siblings had been making in their panic, but still he didn't want to look. Biting his lip, he peeked open an eye anyway, to be greeted by the sight of a somewhat different Lone Star of Texas.

It wasn't burn marks, for, to the children's utmost surprise, there were none; it wasn't melted gold, for, again, the item had not received any damage in that respect. It was the fact that the star was now glowing slightly at the ruby center, as though it had forgotten itself and the fire had reawakened its memory just slightly.

"_What_ is going _on_ in there?!"

Both children jumped at the sound of their father's incredulous voice. Thinking fast, Jesse snatched the Lone Star from the tongs and placed it right back where she'd found it. Clay rushed over to the fireplace to replace the tongs, and both of them managed to get far enough away from the bauble to look innocent before Daddy Bailey burst into the room like some kind of tornado. He looked around, obviously searching for the natural disaster that had been occurring in his absence. Seeing none, he gaped at his children.

"_Are you two out of your heads_?!" he shouted, looking from one face to the other. The children winced at his raised tones. "What's all the noise?"

Guilt filling him from head to toe, Clay lowered his hat over his eyes. Immediately, he felt the mustached man's eyes on him. Not meeting his father's gaze, he started, "Daddy-"

"I tripped."

Clay jumped and looked at his sister, eyes widening. She was looking at her father with a curious, unfathomable expression that not only covered her face, but reached her eyes with a strange light. Daddy Bailey turned his attention to his daughter.

"Tripped?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Clay here was telling me not to run around the room so fast, but I didn't listen; so I tripped but Clay caught me."

"Hmmm," said Daddy Bailey. His dark eyes were roving from Clay, to Jessie, then back to Clay, as though just waiting for one of them to burst out the truth. Clay could feel himself fidgeting; he never did too well under the Bailey Glare, which was rather potent even when it was just a look of skepticism. But in the end, he merely picked up the Lone Star and eyed them suspiciously. "Neither of you touched this, did you?"

"I didn't, sir," said Clay. At least that part was true. Jesse merely shook her head.

Again, all Daddy Bailey said was, "Hmmm." Then he replaced the bolero tie and walked from the room.

Clay and Jesse turned to each other. Then the girl said, "How about we don't talk about this ever again?"

The boy silently agreed, biting his lip. After all, who would believe them if they told?

--_P_--

Dawn was always a favorite time for Clay. Hearing the animals beginning to stir and seeing the rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon, as the remaining stars above his head slowly but steadily winked out with the light that brought them to shame...he never got tired of it.

But it had become even more enjoyable since his Daddy had started to bring him on the cattle drives. He wasn't allowed to rope any of the cattle, seeing as he wasn't strong enough yet to be able to drag a cow back to the herd, but he could shepherd the occasional stray or strays back to the group. But he had to remain in his father's line of sight at all times. Clay didn't mind all that much; he enjoyed the cattle drives immensely anyway.

Today, however...

"Aw, I just don't understand it."

Clay looked over at his father, who was scratching his scalp beneath the cap. "I've never seen 'em so fidgety."

The boy didn't need any further explanation. It was plain to see even to the smallest babe: the cows were acting restless. It wasn't so much in the movement of the herd (they generally stuck together anyway) but in the way they looked. Their eyes roved from side to side, as though they were nervous of some unseen source. And not once in the drive thus far had one cow strayed from the rest; if one started moving away, it would immediately make back for the group. Clay glanced back at his father.

"D'you reckon they think a predator's nearby?" he asked, just a little nervously.

"Well, I'd think we'd've seen one by now," said Daddy Bailey, the beginnings of his mustache frowning with his mouth. He lifted one hand and stroked the Lone Star of Texas thoughtfully.

They trotted onward in silence, the cows' paranoia taking its toll on their herders as they went. Clay, being less hardened than his father, was acutely aware of a sense of not being alone. He nervously looked around the prairie, blinked, and did a double take.

There was a strange blotch out there, though if it were an animal or just a small hill, he couldn't tell at this distance. In any case, it wasn't moving...but maybe that was what had the cows so frightened? The boy squinted, but that really didn't help much. It was just beyond his sight... Maybe he was hallucinating?

"Boy! What're you lookin' at?"

Clay jumped slightly at his father's voice, causing the horse to start a little beneath him. He looked over at his father, and then pointed in the direction of the object that had caught his interest. "It was-"

He stopped in mid-sentence, blinking at the prairie. Clay could no longer see the strange form, though if he'd just lost sight of it (or if it moved) he wasn't certain. Either way, it wasn't on the prairie as far as he could see.

"...Yes?" said Daddy Bailey, a hint of annoyance lacing his voice.

"Well...er...I...lost sight of it, I guess," said the boy, confused.

"Lost sight of _what_, Clay?"

The boy struggled with the words, eyes searching the general area he was certain that he saw it last. "I...don't know."

There was something going on here, something Clay really couldn't put his finger on. Maybe it was just that the cows' fear had finally invaded his sense of reason or maybe a lack of sleep (for Jesse had had a nightmare and, after he had let her sleep in his bed, had been kicking him periodically the night through,) he really didn't know, but he didn't like it either. An eerie sense of being watched crept over him. But by whom...or maybe even _what_?

Meanwhile, Daddy Bailey was peering at his son suspiciously. "Clay, did you drink some of last Christmas' eggnog by mistake again?"

--_P_--

_Whump._

Clay sighed.

Footsteps crossed the hall; down the stairs... Things were shifted downstairs...again; more footsteps, and more things being shifted in a different room. Then the footsteps came back up the stairs, and drawers were shifted through...again. Something collided violently with the wall (for the third time that night) only this time it wasn't accompanied with what sounded like a grown man hopping around on one foot while struggling down some grunts of pain.

Night had fallen only half an hour ago, the last of the sun's rays was still peeking over the horizon, and the moon had just barely risen. A few minutes before, when the noises had started, Jesse had barreled into his room, looking like a jackrabbit that had just realized there was a hawk nearby. She wouldn't say what it was that was making her nervous, but she had no need to: the noises outside in the hall were self-explanatory.

Daddy Bailey was looking for something. Neither child knew what, because his words always came in a muffled jumble, even through Clay's cracked open door. It was barely more than five centimeters, but still... As far as they could gather, something had gone missing, something extremely valuable.

Brother and sister looked at each other.

"What d'ya think?" asked Jesse.

Clay shrugged.

"EMMA!" The children flinched when their father's voice invaded their ears. "I'M GETTIN' _REEAALLY_ FRUSTRATED RIGHT ABOUT NOW..."

"Lower your voice, honey. You'll wake the kids and Lily..."

Whether or not their father took their mother's voice into consideration, neither child fully knew. However, he did seem to listen somewhat, for the volume decreased a little, though not enough so as to not be heard by a certain twosome...

"I just don't know how I could've lost sight of it!" said Daddy Bailey's angry voice. There were more noises, which sounded an awful lot like a nightstand being ripped apart. "I mean, I've always got it with me..."

Something in Clay's mind clicked. His thoughts flickered back to after the cattle drive, and dinner...he thought that Daddy had looked a little different then. But the full gravity of the situation came unsettlingly down as though to squash his hat.

He whispered, "The Lone-"

"-Star o' Texas!" finished the man's voice, frustrated.

Jesse's jaw dropped. "The Lone Star is missin'?" she gasped.

Her brother nodded dazedly. Then he blinked as a thought struck him, and eyed his sister in suspicion. "Did you-"

"I never touched it!" snapped Jesse, a little defensively Clay thought, folding her arms. "The first, last, and ONLY time I ever laid fingers on it was the other night!"

Clay looked piercingly at his sister. Unflinching, Jesse met it coolly, possibly countering it with her own inheritance. The two glared at each other for several long seconds, until finally Jesse dropped her gaze to glare at the floor instead. Her eyes narrowed angrily.

"Ah, why do I even bother?" she said with icy resentment. "I shoulda known you'd suspect me. Just like Ma and Pa will..."

Beneath his irritation, Clay felt a ripple of sympathy for his little sister. His eyes softened as he felt the flare of suspicion fade, and he, tentatively, reached over to place a hand on the five-year-old girl's shoulder. She stiffened at his touch, but did not move away.

"They _won't_ blame you, Jesse," he said gently.

Jesse looked far from reassured. She lifted her chin and looked her brother straight in the eye. "Oh yeah?" she asked skeptically. "What makes you so sure?"

"They love you, Jesse."

She snorted. Her blue eyes fixed him with a look that said 'Yeah right'.

"No, they do!" Clay insisted.

The girl looked at him a little longer, then looked away with chilly indifference not befitting a five-year-old. "They'll still blame me," she said bluntly. Jesse glared at her brother. "After all, who would suspect _perfect, heroic_ Clay?"

She said this last part scathingly, and all Clay could do was stare at her in mystified silence. He couldn't understand:Jesse _never_ talked like this. True, he could always detect a little jealousy from her from time to time, but this...this was outright hostility. Where was this coming from? How long had she been harboring these feelings from him...and why were they surfacing _now_?

Clay then noticed Jesse's eyes shift a little, so that they were looking over his shoulder, and suddenly the hostility slid from her face to be replaced with a blank look; however, her eyes widened considerably with what looked like fear. He blinked, and saw something reflected in her blue orbs. The boy leaned forward a little, and finally discerned what it was: a greenish glow. A little apprehensive, Clay turned slowly around.

A dark shape stood on the roof just outside his windows, looking quite a bit like the thing he'd just seen in the newspaper yesterday. He stared, curiosity flickering in his mind. How'd it get here so fast?

But what really caught his attention wasn't the shape, but something that he'd managed to miss in the photo. Seeing it now, he wondered he'd done that.

Vibrant green was glowing through the windowpane, just where the eyes were.

The - thing, whatever it was...had been shifting past the glass on silent feet (if it even _had_ feet) but it stopped when it noticed the two children in the room, just barely illuminated in the hallway light streaming through the crack in the doorway, though Clay doubted it would've needed the light bulb. Its gaze landed on Clay, and he shivered. He felt like he was under an X-ray.

With what seemed to be disinterest, the thing's line of vision slid over the boy and landed on Jesse. There was a shift from the shadow, which Clay thought was a pair of ears pricking. The emerald-green glow suddenly had a strange shine; it looked a little like curiosity. A paw rose as though to smash through the window and the boy instinctively shoved his sister behind him-

_CRASH!_ "AH, FER-"

The thing flinched back with a low hiss. Its eyes suddenly fixed themselves on Clay's, as though attempting something. A strange feeling was creeping over him, but the thought of Jesse just behind him hardened him against it, and he glared back at it with the beginnings of his own Bailey Glare. The thing emitted a low growl; then it turned and vanished.

Clay breathed out a sigh of relief, only to suck it back in when a pair of hands rammed into his back. "What the-"

The door flew the rest of the way open, and Daddy Bailey was standing framed in the doorway, casting a tall shadow against the bright hall light.

"Clay?" It sounded like the man was doing his best to keep his voice even. "Have you or Jesse seen the Lone Star?"

"Not since this morning, sir, out on the prairie," said Clay immediately. Jesse stood in disgruntled silence next to him.

Daddy Bailey groaned, and began muttering incoherently under his breath.

For several moments, no one said anything else to each other. In this time, the boy's eyes were left to wander, and he noticed something. His father seemed to be favoring one of his legs, and putting most of the weight on the other. He stared; of course, Daddy Bailey wouldn't have complained. In what Clay had gathered through observation, his father never really did like to admit to being injured, not even to Mrs. Bailey.

Almost stupidly, he said, "Daddy, you're hurt."

Daddy Bailey jumped and scowled at his son. "Nonsense," he said brusquely.

Clay opened his mouth to protest, but cut himself off when he heard a voice next to him say, "I could find it, Pa."

Jumping slightly, both Clay and Daddy Bailey stared at Jesse. She was standing straight-backed, and looking perfectly serious. Meanwhile, Clay's jaw was working up and down, trying to filter out a rush of words that had entered his brain. All that was getting out, however, weren't even real words; just half-finished thoughts that were pretending to be. Daddy Bailey remained silent.

"I could find it," Jesse repeated. Clay felt a leaden weight enter his stomach. Of all the times to try and get into Daddy's good graces, she had to pick _now_? "I know the trail you and Clay ride on, I know how to follow it-"

"Not well enough," Daddy Bailey interrupted bluntly. Clay flinched; he knew Daddy Bailey well enough to know that he spoke out of concern for his daughter. The problem was, Jesse didn't know that, and Clay realized how that comment must have sounded to her.

"Pa, I-"

"If you can find that star, then you must be a coyote's aunt," snorted Daddy Bailey. "You're not going, Jesse." Finality in the man's voice, the door closed in the children's faces.

--_P_--

The boy was uncertain as to when he'd dropped off, or even when he'd gotten into bed. All he knew was someone was shaking him, whispering his name urgently.

"Clay! _Clay_!"

Blearily, the six-year-old blinked his way out of slumber, and sat up, yawning widely. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes in vain, Clay blinked tiredly at his awakener. "Wha-wha-wha's up, Daddy?" he asked through a failed attempt of stifling another yawn.

"Good, you're awake." The relief in his father's voice caused the boy to wake up a little more. "Listen: when did ya last see Jesse?"

Clay blinked at this question, trying to think. Then he remembered: right after Daddy Bailey had left the room, Jesse and stormed out after him without a word. As he'd gotten back into bed, Clay had heard her stomping into her own room and slamming the door closed.

"Jus' after you told her not to go lookin' for the Lone Star; why?"

His eyes adjusted to the half light, Clay could see the grim expression on his father's face. "Almost twenty minutes ago... She could be anywhere out there..."

It took only a second, two seconds tops, for Clay to figure it out. He sat up straight, staring at Daddy Bailey as though wishing him to disconfirm his suspicion. "You...you don't think she...think she actually...?" He trailed off with a gulp.

"Went off to look for the Lone Star?"

Clay felt his stomach lurch. "What do we do?"

"'We'?" asked the man. He rubbed his leg, wincing. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right, Clay; with this leg, I'm no use to anyone."

"...Er, in that case," said Clay, trying to sound calm, "what should _I_ do?"

As a reply, Daddy Bailey raised an eyebrow, the mustache twitching slightly. "The only thing you can."

It took him roughly two seconds to find out what indeed he was going to do.

Five minutes later, he was dressed and sitting on a saddled, galloping horse. Silently, he sent a thank you to the half moon above; being out on the prairie alone was more than enough to feel spooked, but in the pitch dark... When he'd gone the length his father had suggested, Clay slowed the horse to a quick trot, calling his sister's name periodically. Each time his call went without an answer, he felt his throat tighten a little more.

When the sound of galloping came to him, he felt hope flare briefly within him. This was tempered, however, when he could see a dark shape coming towards him at speeds beyond Jesse's level of comfort on a horse. Then the flare went out completely when the horse passed by...without a rider. Forcing himself to remain calm, Clay kept going, hoping that perhaps Jesse would remain where she was.

After roughly ten minutes' worth of riding, however, and finding no luck, the boy really became concerned. He couldn't possibly scour the entire prairie...he would if he had to, but no amount of hoping could lift the doubt clouding his mind.

When he could feel the last of his hope leaving, he heard the faint sounds of rushing water. Closing in on the source, he managed to catch sight of a tree, a black figure outlined in silver. Clay whipped out his flashlight and shone it on the tree; next to it was a wide crag, and he realized that one of the streams that fed the river must be running in there. He felt a tiny spark leap up, tempered by fear, when he spotted his sister's hat at the base of the tree. Maybe Jesse was down there...

Scrambling off the horse, he tied it to one of the tree's lower branches, and hurried over to the crag side, flashing the glow of the flashlight down into it. Rocks, large as boulders and small as pebbles were scattered on a slope that went down to the stream below, a steep wall on the other side.

"Jesse?" he called. No answer.

The boy bit his lip, feeling scared. Maybe she couldn't answer... He flicked the flashlight around some more, and froze. Moving the beam over, he saw it again: the glitter.

Frowning, Clay hopped down through the rocks to the glitter, the flashlight beam never leaving it. As he neared, a familiar shape came to his eyes... He hopped down next to it, and grinned at the gold star before him, picking it up.

"Well I'll be a coyote's aunt," he said to himself, looking at the Lone Star wide-eyed. When a raucous started above him, however, he flicked off the flashlight, and quietly made his way back up the rocks quietly, peering over the edge.

The horse was uneasy; it was dancing on the spot, snorting nervously. Clay felt the tension in the air as well; the hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up. And when he heard Jesse's cries, it was all he could do to stay down.

Jesse came vaulting out of the darkness, terrified. On her heels was the cat-thing he'd seen through his window. Jesse was surprisingly fast, but not fast enough; in two bounds, the cat pounced her. By some miracle, the girl managed to wriggle her way out of it's grasp and fled to several feet away from it; she looked tired.

Silently, Clay got out onto level ground, keeping an eye on the cat. He noticed one of its ears flick towards him; not stopping he headed towards the horse. As he began untying it, he saw the head turn and the green eyes land on him, narrowing. When Jesse made a noise, it turned its attention back to her.

Clay was already on the horse and galloping when the cat readied to spring. "Jesse!" he shouted, leaning over with his hand outstretched.

Wide-eyed, Jesse caught his hand and was hauled aboard the horse just as the cat sprang at them; it missed by an inch.

Fighting to remain calm, Clay waited for Jesse to settle herself. "You okay?" he whispered.

She managed a nearly indistinct "Yes" as she took her hat and rammed it back on her head, wrapping her arms around her brother's waist.

In a brief moment, Clay felt a distinct sense of triumph; not only had he found Jesse, but he'd also found the Lone Star! How it had gotten to its location, he wasn't entirely sure, but still he found it. But triumph was replaced with dread as he watched the cat. It stood between them and home; the river was behind them. Clay could just faintly hear it off in the distance.

The cat was bearing down on them; the horse danced nervously beneath him. From behind, Clay could hear Jesse give a few whimpers. He looked around for something, _anything_, that would help him, but the only idea that came to mind was...

He looked from the horse, to Jessie, to the cat, and decided.

"Jesse," he said warningly, "hold onto me; tight!"

"W-why?" Her voice held an unfamiliar quiver.

"Because," Clay said, taking off his hat, gathering the reigns and turning the horse to face away from the cat, "I'm going to do something I've been told dozens of times not to."

He earned a snort for this. "_You_? Disobey? Never heard of it," she said. All the same, Clay felt her grip around his waist tighten considerably, almost to the point where he couldn't breathe.

Sighing, Clay closed his eyes, raised his legs as high as he could, and slammed them down as hard as possible into the horse's sides.

The horse reared, whinnying shrilly; Jesse screamed loudly. The cat lunged, and the horse took off like an arrow from a bow. Pounding hoof beats were reverberating around Clay's skull, Jessie was whispering to herself, over and over again, "Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream, don't scream..." and the night scenery around them was passing by in a blur, the wind stinging his eyes if he didn't keep his head bent.

But the cat's yowling was still behind them, keeping with them, in fact. A sense of doom settling in his stomach region, Clay nervously glanced back. The cat was gaining on them, though still several yards away. He could see the green eyes glaring at him as the cat as it caught up, and then fell behind, caught up, and fell behind. But Clay tried not to pay attention to the feeling in his gut; he could hear the sound of rushing water nearing them. The river was close!

In a matter of seconds, he could see it, getting larger and larger much more quickly than Clay remembered from the cattle drives. With any luck, the cat behind them didn't like water.

At the moment, it seemed totally unaware of the upcoming river. The only thing it had eyes for was Jesse.

Beneath him, Clay felt the horse balking. Obviously it didn't want to get wet; but Clay hissed encouragement as best he could into the panicked horse's ears. Without losing speed, the horse tore across the remaining land and leapt, whinnying, in the rushing water.

For a split second, the boy looked to the side. The cat was in mid-air, right next to him, and he was temporarily blinded by the prism of green that filled his eyes. He thought someone was whispering to him, but it was too faint to make out.

The spell was broken when all four hit the water; the shock of cold left his brain briefly numbed. But he was brought back instantly by the earsplitting shriek that emanated next to him. The cat was yowling and floundering around in the water in what seemed like terror. Clay briefly felt like congratulating himself; so the cat didn't like water.

With surprising speed, the cat scrambled out of the water and back onto the bank. Standing knee high in water, the horse panted heavily; Clay gave it a few pats and rubbed its neck. Through the excitement he'd just had, Clay realized that he hadn't been breathing. He tried to suck in a breath and found he couldn't; suddenly he was aware of the bone-crushing grip of the small arms around him. Craning his neck back, he saw Jesse clinging to him like the world was about to end. Looking up at him with wide eyes, she managed a squeak.

"I hate horses."

Clay grinned at her. Then he reached into his pocket and whipped out the Lone Star; he grinned even wider at the shocked look that came across Jesse's face.

Later on, Clay really didn't know what happened next. The cat had uttered a shriek and an orb of green fire was racing towards them. Suddenly, the Lone Star glowed brightly as the fire struck it. Clay expected his hand to be burned, but to his wondering eyes, the Star seemed to have stopped it in mid-air; then the orb, a bright red-gold now, sped straight back to its originator, and the cat screamed when the fire struck it. Next thing he knew, Clay had dug his heels into the horse's sides again with a whoop, and the horse sped right on past.

Throughout the whole eye-stinging journey, Clay didn't look back once. He heard the cat yowling close behind in its hot pursuit, but Clay kept focused on the destination before them. Home was fast approaching, and with each mile the boy felt hope burn a little brighter.

When they entered the yard, there was a flash of light and the horse screamed, even more loudly than Jesse's ear-splitting shriek. Before the horse fell, Clay seized Jesse and flung both her and himself off the animal. The beast scrambled back to its feet and sped, limping slightly, back to the barn. Without hesitation, he half led, half dragged Jesse after it; the cat was closing in, but like the journey, Clay didn't look back.

He could almost feel the cat's breath on his heels; no time to reach the barn. Instead, he made a sharp turn and threw Jessie into a small, somewhat random shed that stood between the house and barn. Daddy Bailey had been talking for some time about taking it down for fire wood or something like that. Right about now, Clay was glad he hadn't yet. The door slammed closed behind them, and Clay was knocked back from bracing it when it shuddered violently from the cat ramming into it.

The creature was snarling violently. Both children screamed when a paw burst through the door, clawing at them. The two pressed themselves against the back wall, the horrifically long claws missing them by a few inches. Through the hole, Clay saw the cat's eyes glaring at them with an angry fire.

Suddenly, Jesse seemed to fall under a spell; her eyes seemed to glaze over, and a look of terror invaded her face. Faint whimpers were leaking out of her throat, and he saw a small tear slip down her cheek. Clay watched in horror as she seemed to go into a seizure; she was twitching uncontrollably, causing him and even the wall they were pressed up against to shiver.

His eyes flickered from her to the cat, and back, and suddenly a light bulb flicked on over his head. Scowling at the cat in open defiance he covered Jesse's eyes. She seemed to come back to herself, and pressed her face against her brother, who in turn buried his face in her hair.

Then a sound of thunder ripped through the night air, and something whizzed through the both walls, just above the children's heads. Clay felt splinters cascade down on his head; he'd no time to put on his hat. The cat growled and paws hurried away, with a few more gunshots following it. Realizing it was gone, Clay let out a choking gasp of relief and fell into darkness.

--_P_--

When he came to, Clay was immediately aware of blankets, a soft pillow, and being on something undeniably comfortable. Warmth came next, and the aspect that light was creeping through a half-open door. When the voices came, he was only vaguely aware of what they were saying; they came gradually.

"...until he comes to- _Clay_!"

Clay blinked up in the light, and saw Daddy Bailey standing at his bedside, looking intently at him. Giving a cry of delight, Clay's mother threw her arms around her oldest, covering his cheeks, forehead, and the top of his head with kisses. Clay was extremely relieved when his father intervened, and Emma Bailey left, muttering something about getting soup, but not before beaming proudly at Clay. Daddy Bailey smiled after her, and when he turned his face returned to normal.

Half-expecting to be berated, Clay felt himself cringe slightly. Thusly, his father's words surprised him.

"I knew I could trust you."

Clay looked up at his father, and felt his mouth fall open when he saw his father giving him a small smile. The man then lifted his hand, showing his son the Lone Star.

"Clay, if you were only a few years older, I'd give this to you." Clay felt himself bursting with pride, and it was all he could do to keep himself from screaming praises to the mountain tops.

"However," the man continued, his face falling into a more familiar, stern expression, "you wore out one of my best horses! What were you thinking Clay, that a horse is like a steam engine, it never wears out? Well listen here! The next time you're in dire peril, don't count on the horse!"

Clay deflated slightly with these words. Daddy Bailey turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. "Be sure to tell us when Jesse comes to."

Startled, the boy looked over to a bed situated next to him. Jesse lay there, eyes closed, her breathing even. Clay's head snapped towards the door; Daddy Bailey was standing just outside, talking quietly to Mrs. Bailey. Clay settled back onto the pillows, listening.

"I'm telling you, Emma, our two children are a fearless, wild, reckless pair." Out of the corner of his eye, Clay distinctly saw his father beaming. "I couldn't be prouder."

* * *

**So...there's Clay. Here we are: one rewrite and a whole lot of hair-pulling later. I had some fun writing the beginning...heh.**

**The next, last, but **_**certainly not**_** least of the monks' beginnings is...you guessed it: Raimundo! And, I must say, I'm pretty excited on writing him; I've got (in my personal opinion) a very good idea for him.**

**Review? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?**


	5. Raimundo

A/N:** EDIT:** Looking this over, I realized that Chrystal was not at all what I had wanted her character to be. Raimundo's oldest sibling is a lot stronger than the girl I had written originally. But when I edited that, I realized that the family-angst didn't make much sense in how things were handled, such as the family not going out to search, or Chrystal not notifying them that Rai was okay. But don't worry: the angst is still there. Plot-wise, the chapter's pretty much the same.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Raimundo**

The house was quiet, for a change. All that week, noise had been issuing from it, night and day, day and night. The neighbors had started to complain, and with each day their voices got a little louder. But now, at roughly 1:00 in the morning, silence held the upper hand in the neighborhood.

A tiny light flicked on in one of the second story windows in the back. The window opened cautiously; a boy, five-years-old, stuck his head out slightly into the Brazil night air, brown hair falling into cautious emerald-green eyes. When he at last seemed satisfied that he was alone, the small boy gripped an overstuffed backpack and duffel bag, and tossed them onto the lawn below. A teddy bear under his arm, he then followed suit, leaping to a nearby tree and climbing down the trunk, jumping from the lowest branch and landing near his bags. For several moments, he remained frozen where he'd landed, eyes surveying everything around him. Then he straightened, and walked over to his bags, slinging the backpack over one shoulder and the duffel bag over the other. The child crept around the side of the house, hiding behind a tree out front. He poked his head out, glanced cautiously around, stepped out and fixed the building that had been his home since birth with a long, hard stare, feeling torn between what he wanted to do...and what he felt he _needed_ to do.

Would they miss him? Would his siblings be okay? How would his parents react? He was scared. This wasn't right. His brain was telling him this wasn't right...

A breeze slipped by. It pushed against him, almost coaxingly, away from the house. Then it died, and the child looked in the direction it had been blowing. Something tugged gently at his heart, a longing that he couldn't understand. Another zephyr passed, teasing him, and he bit his lip. If he didn't follow it, what then? Would he die of curiosity, sitting alone in his room, wondering?

All he knew was that he had a strange feeling this would be something he'd remember and wonder about, perhaps forever...

Decisively, the little boy gripped his things tighter and hurried down the dark street.

The fact was, Raimundo Pedrosa was leaving, and didn't plan to come back.

--_P_--

"Where is he?"

Alvaro Pedrosa started out of his trance. Taller than most, the boy was often mistaken for older than his true twelve years of age. His shock of messy hair was creamy-brown, and the bright hazel eyes were a strange contrast to his tanned face. Usually, Alvaro was all smiles and friendliness, but at the moment, sitting on his brother's bed, his face was occupied by a glazed expression, as though he was somewhere else entirely.

He turned a numb stare to the one who had questioned him. "What?"

It was his stepfather, Cirroco Pedrosa. Looking at him, Alvaro felt a sharp jab of pain penetrate the numb disbelief he'd been feeling for the last fifteen minutes, for Raimundo looked quite a bit like his father (or at least, he would one day.) True, Cirroco's hair was more black than brown, and the eyes were sea blue, but that didn't change the fact that the two shared very similar facial characteristics.

Right now, the man's eyes held a frantic light, and his face seemed to radiate worry. "Where is he?"

The twelve-year-old couldn't meet his stepfather's gaze. "Ethan and Bellari checked all his haunts, we called his friends' houses- we looked everywhere." He shook his head.

Cirroco covered his eyes with his hand. He would have gone searching as well, if Mirabel, Alvaro's mother, hadn't been in such a state. Just three days after she had brought home the newest family member, Arvin, one of her sons had gone missing.

"Should we have seen this coming?" asked Cirroco helplessly.

"Probably," said Alvaro dully. "He's been wandering off on his own more and more lately..." He frowned; why had Raimundo been doing that? What had he said it was? _Following the wind._

Alvaro shook his head. Throughout the past year (as far-fetched as it seemed) Raimundo had developed a strange connection to breezes. As time went on, he'd started to claim that he could talk to it, even manipulate it a little if he wanted. Alvaro had thought he was crazy, until Raimundo had blasted him with a brief gust- indoors.

It wasn't until recently that he'd started saying that the wind was "calling" him. He'd been caught several times wandering away from the group, never really explaining, just saying that the wind seemed to think he should be going that way. Alvaro almost wished that he could call his younger brother crazy; it would certainly be a lot simpler than the supernatural mumbo-jumbo happening around him.

Cirroco's voice cut into his thoughts. "Okay, okay, we need to call the neighbors, form a search-party-"

"You think that'll work?" snorted Alvaro.

His stepfather's eyes hardened. "No, but it'll make me feel better!" he snapped. "I've been putting up with this wind nonsense for long enough- I know it's real!" he said when Alvaro opened his mouth to argue. "But sneaking out of the house at 1 AM? What could possibly be important enough for a _five-year-old to run away from home for_!?"

With each word, Cirroco's voice had been getting louder and more frustrated until he was yelling. Alvaro flinched, and Cirroco came back to his senses. Sighing heavily, the man seemed to deflate. "What do you want me to do?" he asked helplessly.

Alvaro met Cirroco's helpless look with one of his own. "What _can_ we do?"

Neither of them said anything else. They just looked at each other, as if waiting for the other to come up with some brilliant idea. Then Cirroco, defeated, turned and left the room, and Alvaro was alone.

Unbidden and unwanted, Alvaro felt the tears gathering behind his eyes. He shut them tight, trying to keep the hot, salty water at bay, but with insufficient success. Several tears managed to escape, the rest stinging his eyes. A small sob was lodged in his throat.

Scrubbing his eyes furiously with the back of his hand, Alvaro stood up and left Raimundo's room as well, seeking out his siblings.

Just over two years before, Cirroco had met Alvaro's mother, Mirabel, and, sooner than Alvaro had thought was wise, the two had started seeing quite a bit of each other. It might have taken Alvaro quite some time to warm up to Cirroco if not for the man's children: Chrystal, Raimundo, Zaccheus, and twins Kari and Nakia, Raimundo in particular. The little boy had had a kind of spark that had drawn Alvaro to him immediately. Though he knew that their relationship was a far cry from the one Rai had with Chrys, they were extremely close all the same.

Alvaro swallowed. Why would Raimundo...why would he just up and-

"Alv?" said a voice.

He looked in its direction to see his remaining step-siblings: four-year-old black-haired and blue-eyed Zaccheus, and two-year-old twins Kari and Nakia, who both had brown hair and brown eyes. Though both girls had their hair down, Kari was in pink pajamas, while Nakia was wearing a blue nightgown.

"Hey guys," he said weakly. "Up a bit late, aren't we?" Not wanting a barrage of questions thrown at him, he turned to walk away. Almost immediately he realized that he should've known better; when it came to these four, questions were about all you were going to get.

"What's going on?" Zac asked.

"Why're mommy and daddy upset?" asked Kari.

"Why're _you_ upset?" demanded Nakia.

"Is someone in trouble?"

"Are _you_ in trouble?"

"Didn't Chrys call?"

"Where's Rai?"

At this last question, Alvaro stopped dead in his tracks, eyes closed. His three younger siblings, not anticipating this, bumped into him and fell in a heap on the floor, causing Alvaro to merely sway a little. He turned to them, only to be greeted by the sight of a jumble of arms and legs, struggling to disentangle themselves from the knot. With a sigh, he knelt down and started helping; soon they were back on their feet and fixing him with their quizzical eyes, the questions burning there still.

Alvaro couldn't stand it.

"Rai-" He faltered, and then took a deep breath. "Rai left."

There was a moment in which these two very simple words processed in the toddlers' minds. When it sunk in, another outbreak of questions ensued.

"Where'd he go?"

"_Why'd_ he go?"

"Is it because of- her?"

"I don't know," said Alvaro, bringing the barrage of questions to a halt. "I don't know why he's gone, or where."

His three younger siblings still stared up at him. Then Zac asked, "When's he coming back?"

The twelve-year-old shook his head.

--_P_--

Raimundo became uncomfortably awake when a shaft of sunlight hit his closed eyelids. It was surprisingly bright, burning into his sleeping eyes. He was uncomfortable; something lumpy was beneath his head, one blanket around him, and what he was lying on wasn't as soft as expected. The only thing he recognized was Ninja Fred, the teddy bear's fur against his face while he slept. There was noise, lots of it, so much that he was unable to understand how he'd slept through it.

He opened his eyes.

The boy was sleeping at the base of a tree, a sun shaft burning through a gap between the branches. People were everywhere, walking, conversing, and doing things he didn't know about. One or two would give him a curious glance, but they all walked by, apparently thinking he was the child of someone in the park, or maybe meeting someone. But neither assumption was true, and the boy knew it. And suddenly, Raimundo was seeing a problem with the plan he'd made.

Last night, it had been simple, so very simple. So simple, in fact, that he didn't even think to question it. Now he realized that maybe he should've given it a little more thought.

For one thing, he had no where to go. He couldn't very well go home, because he didn't even know how he'd gotten to where he currently was in the first place, and his sister was in some place called Rio de Janeiro. For another thing, no one knew where he was.

He felt cold fear slide uncomfortably into his stomach. No one was looking for him, he was sure of it. Who would want a runaway? Where would he sleep? What would he eat? He'd already slept beneath a tree, and he didn't fancy trying it again; he'd hastily stuffed his backpack with candy bars and some fruit (he'd been thinking of his mother at the time) but suppose it ran out? What if he starved?

It was right about then, in which Raimundo was starting to feel like crying, that he heard the most wonderful thing in the world:

"Rai?"

The little boy whirled around. Miraculously, standing a few feet away from him was his sixteen-year-old sister, Chrystal. Terrified as he was, his mind went into overdrive and she became the most beautiful being on the planet, her hair golden-bronze, shining in the sunlight, eyes rainforest green sparkling like emeralds in firelight. She was as slender as ever, though Raimundo noticed that she looked a little different in build; being in the circus must have changed her somehow, but Raimundo wasn't perturbed. He knew that she was the same, beautiful, fun-loving Chrys that had left a year and a half before.

Chrystal's face was a perfect picture of shock and surprise, but it was nothing compared to the relief displayed on her brother's features. He let out a wail and ran toward her, latching his arms around her waist. She was obviously still shocked to see him, because it was a few moments before she placed a consoling hand on his head.

"And I thought mom and dad would be happy to see me," she muttered bemusedly. When he finally looked up into her face, she was smiling that familiar smile, affection laced with confusion in her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I ran away," he said simply.

In a moment Chrystal's face became curiously blank. Another moment later, she was on her knees, a hand on his shoulder. "Now why'd you do that?" she asked, her voice unmasking the worry that her face had little difficulty in hiding.

Raimundo paused slightly, feeling a little embarrassed. "You'll laugh..."

"I would not!" she said mock-indignantly. Placing a hand over her heart, she looked at him with an overly dignified expression, causing Raimundo to giggle. "Honestly, would I?" When he, albeit reluctantly, shook his head, Chrystal leaned in just slightly and looked intently at him, her eyes saying, _"So...?"_

Shuffling his feet, Raimundo glanced between her and the ground, saying, "I was following the wind." Anticipating a scoff from his sister, he hurried on, "You remember? Right before you left, I told you about it, how it talked to me, and I know it's stupid and you're gonna laugh-"

"I'm not laughing, Rai," said his sister's voice, perfectly serious. Looking back up, he saw that the confusion was gone, overtaken by the concern. Suddenly she cracked an understanding smile. "Everyone in the family knows about your weirdness, Rai. If you say you're 'following the wind', then I believe you."

Feeling a bit relieved, Raimundo met his his sister's grin with a weak smile of his own. Unexpectedly, the soft breeze changed course to blow almost approvingly in her direction just briefly, so briefly, in fact, that Raimundo suspected that only he had noticed. A ripple of curiosity overcame him; did that mean that this was the reason why he'd sneaked out of his house at 1:00 in the morning, to see Chrystal?

"Rai, you're bleeding!"

Chrystal's yelp dragged Raimundo out of his thoughts. Her eyes were wide; he reached up to his lip, and when he pulled his hand away, his fingertips were covered in a red substance. Suddenly he realized that he'd been biting his bottom lip while he thought. For a few moments he stared mutely at his red fingers, until Chrystal sighed, fished out a handkerchief, and wiped the blood off, finishing it up with wiping his lip. Raimundo blinked at her for a moment, as though uncertain of what happened, and then blinked.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problemo, Rai," she sad distractedly, pushing a slightly redder handkerchief back into her purse. Closing the purse, she sighed and placed her hands on her knees, looking intently at him. "So," she said, tilting her head to the side. "What're we gonna do, kiddo?"

Raimundo blinked. "Huh?"

"I should take you home...," she said, biting her bottom lip slightly, "but I've got to get back to Rio... My boss is strict on when we get back. My pals and me," she added at Raimundo's questioning look, thumbing behind her. He looked over her shoulder to see a car waiting patiently by the sidewalk. It looked like it was loaded with bags. "We're allowed to take a break from the circus once in a while, and we're going back today..." A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Maybe...I could just spin by the house-"

"NO!"

The little boy's desperate cry had brought Chrystal to a sudden start. A few passersby were staring.

"Don't take me home!" pleaded Raimundo desperately, though he wasn't sure why; wasn't he wanting to go home just minutes before? He seized his sister's arms, and suddenly it was as though a stranger had taken over his mouth, moving his lips and using his voice. "I've got something to do!" he said unhappily. "It's something important! Don't take me home, please!"

"Okay, okay!" said Chrystal, surprised by her brother's outburst. "Rai, calm down! I'm not going to take you home, alright?"

Suddenly Raimundo realized he was panting, his heart running a marathon. He tried to steady his breath and his heartbeat calmed; gulping a few more breaths of air into his lungs, he gave a few nods, and Chrystal sighed. "Jeeze, Rai, what's got you so worked up?" When Raimundo didn't answer (for he had none,) Chrystal looked critically at him. Thousands of questions burned in her eyes, but after a moment she seemed to think better of it and stood up.

"Before anything else happens, I have to call mom and dad. Don't look at me like that." She met Raimundo's frightened eyes sternly. "They're probably a nervous wreck by now. The least we can do is let them know you're with me, alright?"

Defeated, Raimundo nodded, and his sister smiled. "'Atta boy."

A car honked, and Chrystal glanced back at her friends' car; looking at her brother, she turned slightly and held out her hand for him to take. "C'mon Rai, we've gotta go."

Without a word, Raimundo gathered up his stuff and, clutching her hand, followed his sister to the car. Briefly, he wondered where she would take him, for he doubted he'd go to the circus with her. He decided to think about it later when Chrystal opened the car door and motioned him to get in.

"Hey Chrys!" remarked a male voice from the passenger seat as Raimundo clumsily climbed into the car. "Who's the shrimp?"

"He's my brother, Felix," Chrystal replied from the door, "so watch who you're calling a shrimp."

Raimundo suddenly became aware of three other presences. There were two boys in the front of the car, and looking around, he found himself sitting next to a girl roughly his sister's age with long black hair and large, curious brown eyes. She looked interestedly at him for a moment, and then her gaze shifted above his head and at Chrystal.

"D'you mind introducing us, Chrys?" she asked, arching an eyebrow playfully.

"Not at all. Rai, these are my friends from Rio. The one you're sitting next to is Alleta Presta, and the two losers up front are Bryan Altan and Felix Namir. Guys, this is my brother, Raimundo."

Alleta gave him a friendly smile, which Raimundo returned shyly. Felix, who was sitting in the passenger seat, had turned and was grinning at the siblings. He had rust-colored hair and pepper-gray eyes, and his wide grin seemed to suggest that he never took anything seriously. "Funny, Chrystal," he remarked cheerfully. "That's got to be your best joke yet."

"You wish, Felix," said the other boy. Bryan, seated in the driver's seat, turned around as well to look at the newcomer. He had a handsome face, with almond-brown hair and gentle hazel eyes; there was something about him, whether in his face, eyes, or just entire manner that gave him an air of peace.

Meanwhile, Chrystal had turned back to Felix. "Listen; I need to borrow your phone."

"Now why would you need that?" Felix asked, eyebrows raised.

"I need to call my parents," she said coolly. "I should think it wouldn't be a problem, since you didn't allow me the courtesy of stopping by the house and letting me see my new half-brother. Allowing me to at least contact them-"

"Alright! Alright! Just take the phone!"

Chrystal grinned, snatching the phone from the redhead's hand. "Thanks, Felix."

"Yeesh," sighed Felix as Chrystal walked behind the car, dialing. "Was the guilt trip really that necessary?"

"You have to ask?"

"Shut up, Alleta."

Bryan grinned at his red-haired friend, then turned back to Raimundo. Looking him over for a moment, he stuck out a hand for the five-year-old to shake as he smiled. "So we meet at last, Raimundo; it's a pleasure," he said as Raimundo took his hand, feeling a little out of place. "Chrystal talks of you a lot."

Raimundo nodded but didn't respond. As the others began what was obviously a common-place conversation, he could faintly hear Chrystal placating his parents over the phone.

"...Yeah, I know, and I'll talk to him about it, but come on. He's not in school yet, and the circus would be good for him. Only for the summer, I promise; it'll give you time to stop being mad at him." She paused. "He won't be doing anything dangerous; Liam's got a strict rule about minors. And I'll be keeping a close eye on him, same with the guys." Another pause, this one longer. "Okay then... Don't worry, we'll take good care of him... Yes- yes, I'll do that... Great! Thanks, Dad."

Raimundo could hardly breathe. Chrystal was hanging up and walking back to the car door. "Thanks, Felix," she chirped, tossing him his phone as she clambered into the car. Felix gave her a pointed look, but grinned at Raimundo.

"So, one more Pedrosa for Rio de Janeiro, eh?"

Raimundo swore that the wind outside, like his spirits, picked up happily as Chrystal said, "You betcha."

--_P_--

Ever since Chrystal had left, Raimundo could not understand what made Rio de Janeiro so special. In all honesty, he'd never thought very highly of the city (not since Chrystal had joined the circus anyway,) not even when she had described it. But now that he was seeing the place for himself, he found his whole opinion of it changing rapidly.

When he had fallen asleep, the little group had still been a little out of Toberejo. But when Chrystal had woken him up just as they entered Rio, he had become completely awake in a matter of moments, and found his nose pressed to the car window, which left something to be desired but served its purpose. What he could see was a beautiful place, buildings settled between a mountain range and the ocean coast, and at times, just beyond them he could see the ocean, glittering blue in the summer sun in the cloudless sky above. Raimundo scrambled from one side of the car to the other, trying to take in everything he could as the car zoomed along the road.

"So how do you like Rio now?" asked Chrystal, smiling knowingly at him. Raimundo could only beam.

Immersed as he was in trying to sight-see, it came as a shock when they stopped in front of the circus. It was only when Aletta, Bryan, and Felix climbed out and Chrystal opened her door that Raimundo realized they'd stopped. Once he was out of the car, he held onto Ninja Fred tightly and stared wide-eyed at the circus grounds. In front of him was the large circus tent, brightly colored and inviting; on the grounds were animal cages and various trailers where Chrystal had told him the performers stayed.

"Trust me," said a low voice behind him, "it's not as exciting as you would think."

Raimundo jumped and whirled on the spot. Standing behind him, seemingly out of nowhere, was a round, short man, probably 4'7" at the tallest, with slicked-back dark hair and a neat mustache, which seemed to twitch every now and then. His face, though he was still a young man, was oddly strained. But the liveliest thing about him was his black eyes, which glittered with an unnameable emotion. At the moment, Raimundo found him a little creepy.

"Hey boss: quit scaring the kid." Raimundo was relieved to see Felix walking up from behind the strange man. A few steps behind him was Chrystal, and when the two caught up with Raimundo and the man, she grinned.

"Liam Jirair, meet Raimundo, my brother."

Jirair raised an eyebrow at Chrystal, and cast a skeptical look over the little boy he'd snuck up on. He looked back at the girl. "So...what is he doing here?"

"I was thinking he could work here," she said simply.

Felix raised his eyebrows in mixed amusement and surprise, and for several moments, Liam Jirair remained silent, fixing a mute stare at the sixteen-year-old before him. Then he cleared his throat, hooking a finger around his tie as though trying to loosen it. "Ah, Miss Pedrosa," he said, looking as though he were trying to remain calm, "would you mind if we shared a few words alone?"

He walked away; Chrystal and Felix exchanged a bemused look, then shrugged, and she made to follow. She was stopped, however, when Raimundo tugged on her pants leg.

"Who's Mr. Jirair?" he asked.

"He's the Ringmaster," Chrystal informed him. "He runs just about everything around here. Don't worry, Rai; Liam seems bad-tempered, but he really does love the circus. He's just worked really hard-"

"Miss Pedrosa..."

"Coming, coming," she called wearily. Shooting Raimundo a confident wink, she walked over to where Jirair stood looking slightly irritable. Once she'd reached him, the two engaged in what looked like an irritated discussion.

"We'd better leave them to it," said Aletta's voice. She, Bryan, and a girl Raimundo did not know had walked up behind him unnoticed. "Watching someone argue with Liam can be pretty hard to endure, especially when the one arguing with him won't back down, and I haven't seen Chrystal back down in an argument yet." She placed a guiding hand around his shoulders, and the quintet moved unobtrusively away from the arguing pair.

Raimundo realized that he was being led to the animals when he saw cages coming into view. Still, this did not stop him from glancing at the stranger that had joined them. She had a kind face, with her long coppery hair pulled back but the bangs still falling gracefully into her peppery eyes. He thought that she was a little familiar, though he could not say where from...

Felix, noticing his stare, grinned. "I guess you haven't met my sister, Lucine?"

_Sister?_ Suddenly it made sense. The family resemblance between the two was striking.

"_Older_ sister," Lucine corrected, smiling.

"Only by a few seconds," mumbled Felix grumpily.

Lucine only sighed, still smiling, as she shook her head. She turned her eyes on Raimundo. "You're Chrystal's brother, aren't you? She talks about you all the time."

They walked among the animals for what seemed like a long time. Raimundo knew that they were doing this to keep his mind off of the argument his sister and her boss were having, but it worked. He found himself enjoying the time spent with his sister's friends; suddenly he understood how she liked them so much.

A number of good things happened that day, but by far the best was Chrystal sprinting up to them, unable to stifle a large grin. She paused in front of her brother and beamed down at him, informing him that he could stay.

--_P_--

Circus life was an interesting experience. Years later, Raimundo would look back and wonder how he'd gotten used to it; but he did. He took to it like a duck to water. There was something about it that allured to him.

Sleeping conditions weren't a problem. The Pedrosa siblings, Bryan and Aletta had been permitted to live at the Namir residence, which was not too far from the circus, for as long as they wanted to; there was one condition: they had to be home by midnight, 12:05 at the very latest. Every day, he was surrounded a large assortment of animals and performers, rides and booths from the fair, friends, and best of all, he was with his sister.

For the most part, he didn't do much. Jirair had allowed him to stay under the condition that he help clean up and that he started training so that he could become part of one of the acts when he was ready. As a result, when he wasn't watching his sister and the others practice or being shooed away from sweeping or some other cleaning job from people unaware of his chores, he was spending time with the twins. Together, they would walk around the fair, checking out the occasional booth that appealed to them. Much to the siblings' surprise, Raimundo would often leave them in his dust. But, saying that Ninja Fred was the only thing he needed, they would end up getting the prizes anyway.

The colors, sounds, and images he got from the circus entranced Raimundo...but nothing affected him quite like the trapeze. For what would seem like days on end, Raimundo would stare up at the two bars, sitting almost randomly in midair. To his surprise, Bryan and Aletta were the trapeze artists, and they were good at it. Absorbed, the child would watch them perform their wondrous feats of flight with almost effortless grace. He'd always liked the idea of flying; sometimes he'd daydreamed about sprouting wings and taking off, up into the wild blue yonder. He wondered what it would be like to work on the trapeze...

Still, there wasn't anything quite as exciting as show time. The first night, Raimundo had watched awestruck as the stands filled up with more people than Raimundo had ever seen. (Up until that moment, Raimundo hadn't been aware that so many people _existed_.) Considering he was five-years-old, Jirair had permitted Raimundo to watch the show as long as he managed to hand out five balloons. Children would flock around him from all sides, and more than once, he found himself watching the performances raptly with the others, all of them wide-eyed and clutching a balloon ribbon, for Raimundo sometimes forgot to hand out the last one.

But no matter how many times he saw it, Raimundo couldn't help but feel angry when boys jeered and threw what Aletta called "catcalls" whenever Chrystal walked past them, to which she paid no notice. Raimundo once asked her why she didn't pay them attention, and she had replied that she'd locked her heart from such things. "Pay them no notice and feel no pain," she had recited to him, as though someone had drilled it into her brain. He couldn't help but feel that it was uncomfortably familiar...

Years later, Raimundo thought it was that fact which made the whole incident so shocking to him.

It had been what he would come to call a routine night; the show was over, and people were exiting. Raimundo had been at the circus for five days at the most and was already used to the bustle of bodies packing towards the exits. But at the moment, the little boy was sitting, disgruntled, down in the ring, being mercilessly teased by his sister.

"My little brother, already a player," she said, pretending to go misty-eyed.

"Shut up," he grunted.

"Ooh, touchy! Guess she was really cute, wasn't she? Well, actually, she was, I saw her, has a nice laugh-"

"I said, shut up!"

"Who's supposed to shut up?" asked Lucine; she and the others were walking up to the siblings. "Good show by the way."

"What's Rai so upset about?" queried Felix, looking curious.

Chrystal smirked. "Well, my little brother is in love!"

"AM NOT!" shouted Raimundo, blushing.

"In love?" asked Aletta, looking interested.

"Well, there was this cute little Japanese girl and her father sitting on the front row over there," Chrystal explained, looking a little smug. "Rai here decided he wanted to show off for her..."

"Ooh." Unanimously, the Pedrosa's four friends winced sympathetically.

"Tough luck, Rai," remarked Bryan, clapping a hand on Raimundo's shoulder. The boy shrugged it off and, gripping his broomstick tighter, set to work with a much more furious air.

Without moving his lips, he managed to grunt out, "I wasn't showing off."

"Sure you weren't, Rai," remarked Chrystal, eyes traveling to a lingering group of boys at the edge of the show ring. "You were...just..."

She trailed off. Looking up, Raimundo saw that her eyes seemed to have grown quite distant, and following her gaze, he discovered the reason. One of the boys was winking and flashing a grin that was far too white at her. He was quite handsome: wavy golden locks adorned his head almost angelically, and even from this distance Raimundo could see his bright blue eyes glittering. Noticing he'd caught her attention, the boy motioned her over, and much to Raimundo's surprise and trepidation, she complied, her expression as distant as ever. Feeling slightly worried now, Raimundo followed, still clutching his broom. And for the first time, she took no notice of her little brother.

As they closed in, the boy only seemed to become handsomer. Whether he was using some sort of magic or maybe the five-year-old's eyes were tired, he didn't know, but by the time the two had reached the stranger, Raimundo was almost blinded by the stupid boy's teeth. And now that they were closer, Raimundo saw something that only made him feel worse: underlying the sweetness and innocence that he pulled off so well in his eyes, there was a strange glitter, something Raimundo did not recognize, but helped him make up his mind once and for all: He didn't like this guy one bit.

"So, seems I'm the lucky one to get snagged by your attention," remarked the blond, still grinning that stupid grin.

"What?" whispered Chrystal in a breathless way Raimundo was foreign with.

"Well, I mean, there you are, a perfect painting of an angel, and you go for the snorting troll," remarked the boy with what sounded like a forced laugh.

Chrystal laughed, and Raimundo winced. While the boys may have found the sound very pretty, Raimundo, who'd grown up with the girl, knew better. The noise she'd uttered had been a little too loud, a little too shrill, and a little too forced-sounding. By now Raimundo's feeling for the stranger had turned from dislike to something very close to hatred.

"Allen Ohanzee," said the blond smoothly, sticking out a hand. Chrystal stared at it as though it were made of thousands of diamonds, and then took it gingerly, like if she gripped it too hard he would shatter into a thousand pieces and never be recovered. Raimundo found himself wishing bitterly that he would.

"Chrystal Pedrosa," she said in that same, foreign voice. And for the first time since she'd laid eyes on Allen, she noticed that her brother had followed. "And, uh, I don't think you've met my brother, Dairunmo?"

Allen cast a brief, skeptical look over the little boy before him, and for a tiny, minuscule second, which was over so fast that Raimundo was uncertain if he'd imagined it, the little boy found himself seeing the male siren before him as he really was. A small bit of anger pushed its way into his veins, and unexpectedly a breeze picked up and moved, hissing, into the tent, causing their hair to go a little haywire for a moment.

"Nice to meet you, Dairunmo," said Allen coolly.

The breeze picked up a little more as the five-year-old felt himself get a little angrier and his face start to burn. "That's _Raimundo_," he said through gritted teeth.

"Whatever," said the blonde disinterestedly. When his eyes turned back to Chrystal, the façade was back up in full force. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime?" said Allen, giving Chrystal a final wink before turning to leave with the group he'd left with.

For several seconds, all the eldest Pedrosa child could do was mouth "'K" after him. He was halfway out when she managed, "O-okay! S-see ya!"

She continued to watch him go, and then said to her brother, still a little breathless but not as much to his enormous relief, "Isn't he amazing?"

Grumpily, Raimundo replied, "I don't trust him."

"I don't see why that is," she remarked. She was now standing on tiptoe, craning her neck.

"I'd be happy if he never returned here," the boy continued.

"Don't be silly," she replied distractedly.

Raimundo had no response to this; instead, he watched Allen Ohanzee leave the tent, hoping that he wouldn't return. And was it his imagination, or was the wind agreeing with him?

--_P_--

Much to Raimundo's consternation, however, he _did _come back. That night, Chrystal flirted with him whenever she could, giggling and flipping her hair in a very un-Chrystal-ish way. Raimundo watched her the whole time with his brow furrowed. It was obvious to anyone except Chrystal that the little boy did not approve of his sister's new infatuation. And he wasn't the only one, either.

Later when the six of them were settled around the table for dinner, Chrystal was continually fidgeting with her food, picking at it quickly but nervously. She looked so nervous that it was inevitable that one of her friends asked her what was going on. It was then that she admitted to the table at large that Allen had asked her out on a date, and she had accepted.

The mute silence that followed this announcement was broken only by a clanging sound. Bryan had dropped his fork, which bounced off his plate and onto the ground with a soft thump.

"That's...," said Aletta, blinking.

"...great!" finished Lucine, trying to sound excited. Raimundo noticed that her smile was a little forced.

Felix cleared his throat hastily, making a few noises that sounded neither approving nor disapproving, and Raimundo was at a loss for words entirely. To stall for time, he looked around, and caught sight of Bryan. He was surprised by the expression there: Bryan looked as though he'd been hit by a runaway freight train. His mouth hung open loosely, and he merely stared at Chrystal (who was being unusually quiet.) Suddenly her eyes met his, and, to Raimundo's confusion, she blushed and looked away. The little boy blinked a few times, but decided not to think too hard about it.

When the next night rolled around, Raimundo still hadn't gotten over the fact that his sister was going out with a "pretty boy"; an odd expression, but he'd heard it and Ohanzee's name pushed together so often that he sort of fell into the habit of calling the blond that behind Chrystal's back.

Something that really killed him was how excited Chrystal seemed. She was going in a frenzy over what clothes to wear, how to do her makeup, what to do with her hair, and things she was talking too rapidly about to understand.

"Honey, take a deep breath," said Aletta, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders. "If you don't slow down, I won't know how to help you."

Chrystal grinned in embarrassment. "I know," she said with a laugh, placing a hand to her forehead. "I guess I'm just really nervous."

Even from the door, Raimundo could tell there was something wrong with his sister, beyond her new-found attraction to the pretty-boy she'd met a few days ago. Aletta noticed, too.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking concerned.

"It's stupid," sighed Chrystal, waving her hand dismissively. "I just feel…tired, I guess, all of a sudden. I mean…" she flapped her hands listlessly at her sides. "I think I'm having second thoughts about this date…"

"Second thoughts?"

"Like…" The brunette sighed, sounding a little frustrated. "I don't know. I think about Allen, and everything gets mixed up. I'm perfectly fine with him when I'm around him, but once I'm out of his presence, it's like-" She frowned, brow furrowed. "-I don't know what to think of him. And my head starts to hurt…" Her hand finding its way to her forehead again, she sat down on the edge of Aletta's bed.

"Then don't go," said Aletta, sitting down next to her. (She sounded a tad earnest to Raimundo's ears.) "Tell him you're not feeling well. If you feel like you shouldn't go, then don't."

Chrystal seemed to consider this for a moment, but then shook her head. "No; I made a promise, and I'm going to go through with this." Looking up into Aletta's concerned eyes, she cracked a lopsided grin. "Besides, it wouldn't hurt to go get a free meal at someplace fancy, right?"

Aletta stared at her for a moment, and then they both burst into giggles. Not feeling any better about the situation, Raimundo crept away from the door.

--_P_--

When he saw Chrystal next, ready and leaning against the wall as she waited for her date, it was the first time Raimundo had ever seen his sister dressed up. She was beautiful in her black pants, red top and white jacket, and yet looked very lonely, standing alone, staring down at her black shoes.

"You look pretty," he commented.

Startled out of her thoughts, she looked at her brother and smiled, one curl, free of her bun, falling next to her face. "Thanks, Rai."

The she looked back down at her shoes, and Raimundo walked over and stood next to her, looking the floor in thought as well. This whole situation didn't make sense. When Chrystal was around Ohanzee, she wasn't herself, someone Raimundo didn't know; but when she wasn't around Ohanzee, she was confused, even tired, and didn't seem to like the blonde all that much. Raimundo's brow furrowed. Was this what normally happened to people just before they went out on a date? He didn't know; all he did know was that he didn't like seeing his sister like this, and didn't want her to go out with Ohanzee, even if it did get her a free meal at someplace fancy.

"There's a car coming up the driveway," said Lucine's voice from the kitchen. Chrystal's head shot up toward the door, and glancing nervously out of the corner of his eye at her, Raimundo could not see her expression.

_Do something, idiot!_

Then Chrystal took a step towards the door, and the words came tumbling out. "Chrys, don't go!"

She stopped and turned to looked at her brother, and he saw the look in her eyes. "What?"

"Don't go on that date," he said quickly; he couldn't seem to breathe. "Just stay home, take me to a movie, something! I won't tell, I swear, I'm good with secrets, no one will ever know-"

He was cut off when she said, "Rai..." Her head tilted to the side as she studied the little boy in front of her. Something unidentifiable flickered in her eyes; her earlier conversation with Aletta flew back to his mind, and he wondered if she was thinking about it, too. "...You don't want me to go on this date?"

The wind flew by an open window; it sounded upset. "I've – I've got a bad feeling about it." Listening to the breeze outside, he knew he wasn't alone...

Chrystal looked at him, looking pained.

A car blared its horn in the driveway. Chrystal jumped, glanced at the door, and then back Raimundo; for a moment, she looked dearly tempted.

"Sorry Rai," she said softly, opening the door. She gave him an encouraging grin, one that didn't match her eyes. "It'll be alright; you'll see."

But Raimundo couldn't see. He couldn't see how this could be alright when everything told him the opposite. And when, later that night, a figure entered the house and quickly, almost silently, entered her room, Raimundo realized with a sinking heart that he'd been right.

--_P_--

When Chrystal had come home, she truly came home; but the date had not gone well. She wouldn't talk about it, brushing it off like everything was absolutely fine, yet her smiles were forced and she was more irritable than usual. Not to mention she seemed a bit out of it, as though hearing through a filter. Fortunately, Jirair took this as a sign that she wasn't feeling well, and excused her (albeit grudgingly) from practicing. Raimundo knew that she would eventually be back to her old self, but somehow he realized that things wouldn't be quite the same again.

Still, he felt rather light without his furry companion, but that didn't stop his heart from swelling with pride when he saw the use he was going to now. At the moment, Ninja Fred was clasped tightly in Chrystal's embrace. It had seemed to have helped the previous night, so Raimundo had permitted her to hold on to him for as long as she felt she needed, while the five year old stationed himself at his sister's side.

Standing where he was, Raimundo noticed a change in the way people treated Chrystal. Suddenly, it was as though she were made of glass: People were very careful about what they said while around her, and they kept sending her glances that Raimundo sensed she found annoying; he steered her away from them. The only other two that acted remotely normal to her were Felix and Lucine, who were engrossed in a very strange news story.

"_...this creature escaped from the nearby zoo is yet to be confirmed_," the newsman was saying. "_No one has gotten a good enough look at it yet_-"

"Unbelievable," snorted Lucine, giving the radio, which was still chattering on about a feline of some sort, a scathing look. "The tabloids are coming to the radio stations."

Felix merely shrugged. "Eh, what can you do?"

As the twins seemed to be the only ones who were dealing with the situation in a way that was comfortable for Chrystal, she and Raimundo stayed with them. They were joined a little while later by Aletta and Bryan when they finished practicing their routine. Aletta greeted Chrystal and Raimundo with the usual warm smile, and then immersed herself in the rant Felix and Lucine were having about the news. Bryan, on the other hand, had been acting very strangely around the Pedrosa girl all that day. He would glance at her, blush, and usually try to distract himself. Whenever he did this, Chrystal looked uncomfortable as well and tried to not meet his gaze.

That was how it went for a while. Once every so often, a spectator to whom the group was acquainted to might drop by and chat for a moment, giving Chrystal a smile, but other than that it was a strangely monotonous morning that would no doubt turn into an equally monotonous day.

So it was that they had been standing next to the radio for some time when Chrystal, looking rather uncomfortable, said she needed some air and began to walk towards the exit. Raimundo trotted after her, but stopped when something tugged at him. The air seemed restless; somehow, Raimundo knew something was not right…

Then something inside him screamed _DUCK_! Without thinking, Raimundo threw himself to the ground, just as something green and very hot flew by, right where his head had been moments before. Screams erupted around him. Raimundo looked up, towards where Chrystal had been, just in time to see her be grabbed by Bryan. This was surprising, given the way the two had been acting around each other, but there he was, guiding her along with a protective arm; besides her look of surprise and slight annoyance, she didn't seem to mind. Satisfied for the moment, Raimundo directed his attention to a hole, roughly the size of his head, which had been burned through the canvas; but that was not what had drawn his attention.

"IT'S THE THING!" screeched a voice that sounded strangely like Lucine's. Raimundo looked in its direction, only to see that it _was_ Lucine, her face screwed up in an unattractive look of terror; Felix, who was gripping her shoulders in what appeared to be protection both for his sister and himself, looked too stunned to comment. "IT'S THE CAT!"

"The Cat" had (luckily for Raimundo) not noticed the five-year-old yet, for it was too busy eying a small gaggle of suitably terrified looking people; and unfortunately, the two people at the very front of this group were Bryan and Chrystal. Bryan had unwittingly led Chrystal just in the direction the cat had been drawn, but he met the green eyes with a determined expression all the same; Raimundo noticed him subtly pushing Chrystal behind him, and he felt a surge of pride when he saw Ninja Fred still in her grasp. He calmed immediately: Ninja Fred was lucky.

But Raimundo knew that luck wasn't going to get them out of this situation. He looked around for some way to draw the cat's attention without being eaten himself, and then he heard a whispering voice hiss in his ear, _The trapeze._

Not noticing something cool that ruffled his hair as it passed, Raimundo turned automatically to the contraption, wondering what had spoken to him. He looked up at it, the two platforms supported by two ladders, and the bars that he knew were sitting up above. Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 It suddenly looked dizzyingly tall, but he felt a small shove by an invisible force and his resolve firmed. He whipped around, cupped his hands around his mouth and took a deep breath.

"HEY CAT!"

The thing stopped dead in its tracks, and turned its head to look at what had yelled at it. So did roughly ten other people, and one girl's eyes grew wide. "Rai!" shouted Chrystal; if she hadn't looked horrified before, she certainly did now.

Raimundo paid no attention. "LOOK! AN APPETIZER! THINK YA CAN SWALLOW ME? OR IS YOUR MOUTH TOO SMALL?"

Two green eyes narrowed, and the cat turned, picking up speed with each step. Gulping, Raimundo turned around and raced for the trapeze. Within three bounds, the cat was nearly on him. The little boy gripped one of the rungs and began to haul himself up the closest ladder, which trembled dangerously when the cat ran head-on into it. Cringing, he didn't stop. limbs moving faster than he thought possible.

Halfway up the ladder, he chanced a downward glance, which probably wasn't the brightest idea in the world. The ground was looking very far away indeed, and suddenly his stomach did one of the vanishing acts he'd seen one of the performers do just the other day. But on top of that, against every possibility Raimundo could think of, the cat, which he'd left looking rather sullen at the bottom…_had started to climb the ladder_! Slowly, painstakingly, the cat was making considerable progress; even as he hung there, he could see the green eyes getting larger. The boy's mouth fell open and he hung there loosely, almost letting go of the ladder to surrender himself to the tall drop that awaited him if he lost his grip. Managing to come back to his senses, however, he went renewed his grip and continued to clamber upwards, shaking now, as he became aware to the yowls below getting louder.

Finally, he ran out of ladder and found himself scrambling onto the platform, the cat not far below. He looked around wildly: the trapeze on the other end hung in space, looking curiously lonely all by itself. Fortunately for Raimundo, the trapeze on his end dangled just in front of him, ready for use. Taking hold of it, he loosed it from its restraint, and glanced back. The cat's head popped up from below the platform, and it glared at him. Without another thought, Raimundo gripped the bar tightly and swung out into space; several voices below screamed.

Despite the brief, horrifying sensation of dropping into oblivion, Raimundo felt a grin of joy split his face. Oh, this was exactly, _exactly_, as he had expected it to be, every bit as wonderful as he'd imagined. He was swinging in midair, the wind pressing against face, and for a few seconds he completely forgot where he was, what he was doing, everything.

It was only when he was going backwards that he remembered and looked back. The cat was sitting on the edge of the platform with an expression of furious dignity, scowling at him. Raimundo's heart rate shot up as the cat loomed closer. The mouth curled into a snarl, and for a few seconds Raimundo's face was so close that he could admire, in stunning detail, the perfectly white fangs which ended with razor-sharp points. The cat lifted a paw and swiped at the boy, but missed because of ill-timing and the lethal claws whooshed by, centimeters away from ripping through the boy's clothes.

Raimundo grinned triumphantly, sending a look of confidence at the cat, which tried to nab him each time he swung in its direction. It missed each time, much to its frustration, and the swing crested lower and lower, further from the platform, until Raimundo was hanging in space on a single bar, swaying slightly with the odd breeze. Despite the drop that his eyes beheld each time he looked down (he was thankful to see a net ready and waiting) Raimundo's grin had been getting wider, but then it vanished from his face when he saw the cat gathering its haunches, getting ready to spring. His eyes went completely round when it launched itself from the platform, and, terrified, he watched it zoom towards him. The crowd below gasped.

But it seemed fate was with him. Apparently, the cat had been a little too enthusiastic, for it soared right over Raimundo's head, through the two wires supporting the other bar, and almost landed on the opposite platform. Its front half made it, but the other end fell short. Panicking, he cat's claws scrabbled against the wood until it managed to snatch a hold and heaved itself onto the relative safety of the platform; the thing gave itself a few licks, then turned and gave Raimundo a scowl. Hanging as he was in space, all he could do was gulp and watch it wide-eyed.

With a growl, it leaped forward onto the second trapeze. Awkwardly, it struggled to balance on the bar as it swayed dangerously from side to side, and somehow managed to stay on the bar. Glaring, it leaped again; Raimundo cried out in horror.

A sudden wind sprang up; it wasn't strong enough to knock the cat off course, but the shock was enough to slow momentum. Once again, the cat fell short of its target, but one of the claws snagged itself on the end of Raimundo's pants. With a cry, Raimundo felt the claw rip away from the clothing, but not before he lost his grip, and his and the cat's screams mingled with the horrified gasps from the crowd below, all of their individual shouts lost to the falling pair's ears. All the air was ripped from the child's lungs, and the rushing wind that seemed to be all around him stung his eyes, which he closed against the sight of the ground below, rushing towards them-

_WHUMPH!_

Raimundo felt like he was on a ropey trampoline. The net they had landed on sagged with the sudden weight and sent them bouncing into the air; it took a few moments to settle itself, and glancing in its direction, Raimundo saw that the cat looked a little dazed.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands latched themselves to him. Raimundo looked around, caught sight of a flash of red, and realized it was Felix. Eyes trained on the cat, which had recovered and was now snarling again, Felix pulled Raimundo roughly off the net and backed away quickly. The cat sprang and landed in front of them. Raimundo felt Felix's nails digging painfully into his shoulders, but curiously he didn't mind.

There was a loud _BANG!_ Several people screamed, and Raimundo and Felix jumped. Looking around, the five-year-old spotted Liam Jirair standing a few feet away, looking particularly grim as he held a gun in his hands. The cat looked at its back leg and growled angrily, and Raimundo saw something sticking out of it. "Tranquilizer," muttered Felix. "It'll make him sleepy."

But far from getting sleepy, the cat seemed to only become enraged. Jirair sprinted nimbly around the trio before him, never exposing his back to the creature which continued to glare as it prowled towards him, growling more than ever. His expression did not change as he stood in front of something large and square, covered by a silver-spangled navy blue blanket. He fired another tranquilizer, which hit the cat in the front shoulder this time, and it streaked forward with a roar that made Raimundo's hair stand on end.

Jirair stood calmly as he watched the cat approach. The cat was nearly upon him- he sidestepped-

-and slammed a door of metal bars behind the cat, pulling the blanket off of a large metal cage. Calmly, he locked the cage door and sprang nimbly away from the paws that darted between the bars. The crowd exploded with cheers and applause, and Raimundo found himself in a bone-crushing hug as Chrystal shouted hysterically into his mop of hair.

-_P_-

It was nearly twenty minutes later, and the spectators (except Lucine, who had insisted on staying with her brother) had been escorted from the circus grounds rapidly; all of them were conversing in excited voices about what they had just witnessed. It hadn't taken long for them to become convinced that it was actually an elaborate skit, meant to get them excited for the next show. The circus performers and their manager, however, knew that the masses would be in for disappointment if they still expected any such spectacle in few nights' time.

At the moment, all of the circus staff was situated uncomfortably in an adjoining side-tent, discussing what to do with the cat. One of the clown performers had taken the task of calling up the zoo, asking if they were missing some sort of cat. A harassed-sounding staff member had replied in a voice Raimundo could hear from several feet away, "NO! WE ARE NOT MISSING A CAT!"

At the moment, Raimundo was clutching Ninja Fred with a content expression on his face, while Chrystal stood behind, her hand protectively clutching his, and once in a while she'd beam proudly down at him. If any good came from the whole incident, it was that Chrystal had (for the moment anyway) broken out of her funk and was more preoccupied in protecting Raimundo from people who would come up to him and express their amazement at his bravery on the trapeze. Each comment made him glow with pride, but he tried to take it in stride. Eventually, however, no one wanted to risk a tongue-lashing from his sister so they backed off and settled with giving him a wink once in a while. Bryan and Aletta in particular had praise for him, and Chrystal allowed it, more because she seemed to enjoy Bryan's company more and more, even though he merely stood quietly at her side most of the time. Raimundo would notice the little glances he would send her, and the ones she returned with a tiny blush, and felt a peculiar feeling of joy settle in his stomach.

"What do we do now?"

"_Do_?" barked one of the performers, thumping the table with his fist and causing several people to jump. "We keep it!"

There were a number of gasps, an outbreak of muttering, and Felix spluttered, "_Keep_ it?"

"Are you insane, Brighton?" snapped Jirair. Everyone had a new found level of respect for the short man, impressed by how calmly he had taken care of the cat outside, and now, more than ever, when he spoke, people listened. "That cat's a menace. Did you see the people's expressions?" For a few seconds, Jirair paused, and then he looked thoughtful. "...Yes...absolutely delighted when they left...our ratings will probably go through the roof..." He seemed to be enjoying the vision in his head, but noticing the expressions of those around him he added very quickly, "But it's very dangerous! It would probably be better to dispose of it."

Murmurs of agreement scuttled amongst the group, and several people were nodding. Raimundo heard Chrystal sigh, and Bryan gave her a look. "Well, what else are we going to do? That thing nearly killed Raimundo- and us!"

"I know," she said uncomfortably. "I guess I just don't like the idea of killing something…even if it did almost eat us…"

Bryan looked as though he was going to say something else, but then, without warning, screeching a bit like metal tearing reverberated so loudly from outside that it made Raimundo's teeth hurt. After a very brief exchange of glances, the group rushed out into the circus ring; Chrystal's grip on Raimundo's hand tightened, and one or two people screamed.

The cage was empty. All that was left were some mangled bars, making a large hole on one side, and some paw-prints that were fading fast with the light breeze. Whispers slipped among the group, some terrified, others dumbfounded. Raimundo, Chrystal, and Bryan remained silent, merely staring at the wrecked cage and not feeling the least bit surprised.

"Bryan!"

Aletta stood some distance away, as several others hurried towards the main entrance. "The thing made a real mess outside, and we could use a helping hand..."

"Coming," he said, waving her on. He hesitated briefly, giving Chrystal a piercing look, as though trying to figure out if she was still okay; when she smiled at him, he returned it and followed after Aletta.

Raimundo walked a few feet ahead, breaking away from Chrystal and feeling a little disappointed. "I wanna help...," he said after them.

"You done enough damage for today," chuckled Chrystal. She took his hand again and, with a gentle tug, guided him over to the seats and sat down. Raimundo opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when he saw his sister's subdued face.

"Are you okay?"

She looked at her brother and forced a grin. "Yeah...I will be."

_Oh yeah; that._ In all of the commotion, Raimundo's five-year-old mind had somehow forgotten recent events. Shoving those thoughts away, he changed the subject. "Were you scared the cat was going to eat you?"

"A little," she said with a small shrug. She seemed to be lost in thought, and very gloomy thoughts at that. Deeply concerned, Raimundo sat down next to his sister and, silently, offered her Ninja Fred. Her eyes roved over to the teddy bear and, with a smile, she gathered the toy into her arms. Satisfied, Raimundo started to swing his legs against the seat.

"I was more worried about you."

Raimundo felt his sister put an arm around him and tug him onto her lap, then she wrapped him in a hug and buried her face in his hair, and as she held him tightly, it dawned on him how frightened she must have been. It was an odd feeling, realizing that, and Raimundo didn't know what to make of it.

"Promise me that you will _never_, _ever_, do something stupid like that again." Chrystal's voice (muffled by his hair) was dead-serious, half-exhausted, and so motherly that Raimundo couldn't help but smile drowsily.

"Okay," he yawned. Suddenly, his eyes just couldn't stay open. When did he get so sleepy?

As he sunk further into his sister's arms, he was vaguely aware of Ninja Fred being pushed gently into his; he subconsciously wrapped his arms tightly around the stuffed animal, and Chrystal gently held her little brother in her arms as he drifted off.

They were like that for what seemed a long time, when two men walked up to her, their eyes wide.

"Miss?" one asked. Chrystal looked up and fixed him with curious eyes. "We were wondering... Is that the brave little hero that faced the cat?"

She laughed, more at the words "brave little hero" than anything, and replied, "Yeah, it's him."

Both men's faces lit up, and the other asked eagerly, "Can we have a few words?"

Chrystal looked down at the brown-haired boy in her arms, his breathing steady and eyes closed, and smiled at them. "'Fraid not. He's a little tired."

The men looked a disappointed, but thanked her and left. She looked back down at her brother, gripping his Ninja Fred like he'd never let go, and gently wiped a lock of hair out of his face. Drawing her hand away, she had to laugh again.

Who knew that heroes slept with teddy bears?

* * *

**That was the last of those chapters. Next we'll just have this little thingy where they first meet...sort of...thing. -cough- Um, yeah. Then it'll be time for the actual plot...**

**Please review this chapter, if you wish.**


	6. Fate Set into Motion

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you, you wonderful readers/reviewers!

**EDIT:** GOOD GRIEF, I'M JUST EDITING EVERYTHING, AREN'T I? Anyway, there wasn't much to change here; just the last bit between our main antagonists. And that bit actually _benefits_ the plot; trimmed some unnecessary (or at least, unimportant) details from the plot.  
I hope I didn't make (you-know-who) too whiny…

* * *

**Chapter Six: Fate Set into Motion**

Takeoff:

Strangely, it was the moment Raimundo had been dreading.

The plane was in the air, flying over the airport. Looking downward, Raimundo could just see the circus troop below, his sister and their friends waving him off. Raimundo looked through the tiny space the window offered, gloomily watching Brazil gradually fade away.

"Farewell, my beloved Rio de Janeiro," he whispered to the home he was leaving behind.

Sighing heavily, he turned away from the window and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. In a small wave of homesickness, he clutched Ninja Fred to him. The hum of the plane engines outside gave him little relief. No music, no video games... he could already sum up this trip in a word:

_Boring._

There was nothing to do here except stare at the seat in front of him. This trip wasn't non-stop, however, and the former circus star found comfort in that. There were two stops ahead: Texas and Tokyo. It was all he could do not to pray that the kids he'd be traveling and, it seemed to be, training with, wouldn't be utterly dull. He'd like at least ione/i person he could have an intelligent conversation with.

And what about this other kid Fung'd mentioned? A boy who'd been living and training in the Temple his whole life... That didn't sound too promising. For all Raimundo knew, the kid barely knew about the world outside the temple.

Muttering nonsense words to himself under his breath, Raimundo fished around for one of his going-away presents. Grabbing it, he pulled out the book Felix had given him: Teens and Teddies: Confessions from Teddy Bear Lovers World-Wide. He rolled his eyes; _how very thoughtful_. Staring at the cover, which depicted what appeared to be a formidable-looking seventeen-year-old football player wearing a sappy grin as he clutched a worn-looking bear (Raimundo couldn't help but wonder how much the guy had been paid,) he fought against the groan lodged at the top of his throat. Well, he had nothing better to do...

_What've I got to lose?_ Raimundo thought gloomily, cracking the book open.

_Chapter One_

_A History of Teddy Bears, and Why are They so Cuddly?_

"...Besides my sanity," he muttered.

--_P_--

It was dark as a moonless and starless night on the mountain, though whether it was night or not couldn't be certain, due to the unusual amount of cloud-cover high above, the clouds dark and impenetrable. But all any of the villagers on and around the mountain knew was that it was dangerous to step outside the village borders; tales and folklore of a dangerous monster lurking about the mountain for many years had spun a large gossamer web of fear and suspicion roundabout the villages, infecting their occupants.

A visitor to closest village had paid no mind to these tales, however, which would explain why he was in the most desolate spot of the mountain. All anyone could say about him was that he was roughly eighteen, tall, well-built, and very strong but without huge, bulging muscles. No one had seen his face, for he kept it hidden beneath a traveling cloak, the hood oddly obscuring. Once he'd been asked why he kept himself hidden, and he'd replied coldly that they were better off not knowing. It was one of the few times anyone had heard him say more than two words.

Debate was up as to who, or what, this traveler was. A lost assassin, perhaps? Maybe (from the more suspicious villagers) a particularly irritable werewolf? You never knew about these things. But the most popular was that he was a wandering Xiaolin Warrior. They'd heard of such things, of course, though the last one they'd met had been a man passing through roughly twelve years previously. (Well, everyone had _assumed_ that he was a wandering Xiaolin Warrior; he'd never said what he was.) But in any case, the argument against the theory was that he had stayed around too long; nearly two months ago, he'd wandered into the village, tired, hungry, and bad-tempered. His exhaustion and hunger were quickly taken care of, but his attitude was something else entirely. As time passed, however, his grumpy attitude had faded quietly into a haughty air of disregard. No one talked to him, and he paid them no mind unless they were interrupting his eating or sleep, or trying to pick his pockets (which was a bad idea to even _think_ about; every pickpocket that crossed him walked away with broken fingers.)

The one thing that they all agreed on, however, was this:

He was spooky.

No one could really place what it was, but being around him...you could just tell that he didn't, or maybe hadn't, hung with the right crowd. His presence was as cold as his demeanor. This made it strange that he was drawn to fire. (One or two joked rather pathetically that it was so his attitude could warm up. Every time the stranger heard one, the joker would find himself missing several teeth a few seconds later.)

But he paid no mind to the people... those pathetic excuses for living creatures that his mind had been twisted into believing were far beneath him, just as he paid no mind to the chill that was hissing through the mountain crags without a single breeze for aid. What he was after was far, _far_ more important than such trivialities.

--_P_--

With a great deal of difficulty, for more than once he'd had to stop in his reading of the long chapters, Raimundo had managed to get to chapter three by the time the plane reached Texas. He heard a few people get on; several walked past him and the empty seats. Then heavy footsteps that sounded suspiciously like boots hitting metal came up the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a formidable-looking boy stepping up to his row. He was tall, muscular looking, and there was no doubt he was a cowboy. Boots, gloves, and even the hat; blonde hair fell into blue eyes, and his round freckled face had a gentle quality to it.

Clay Bailey had wondered about who he'd be traveling with. All he'd heard was that there was a Brazilian and Japanese as well. But he got his answer once he'd reached his row. He discreetly studied the boy. The green eyes seemed so much brighter in the tanned face, almost hidden along with the thick eyebrows by messy brown hair. At the moment, he was doing his best to hide the title of his book with one hand, the other fiddling with a pendant around his neck. There was something about the boy's features that made it look like he was trying to hide himself.

For a few moments, the boys just looked at each other, wondering if they should let the cowboy sit down, or the Brazilian to speak first, or maybe if it were best to just remain silent. Finally, Clay glanced at his seat number and, after placing his carry-on pack above his seat, sat down next to Raimundo.

There was an awkward silence.

"So..." Raimundo's voice sounded a little squeaky, so he cleared his throat and tried again, not looking at the newcomer. "So... We're gonna be training together, huh?"

Clay's eyes didn't look at his neighbor. "Er, yeah, I guess so."

Silence again.

Raimundo glanced at Clay a few times, and then finally forced his eyes to remain on the boy's face. He put out his hand. "Raimundo Pedrosa."

The cowboy looked at the tanned boy, and took his hand. "Clay Bailey."

They shook hands, and felt themselves warm towards each other slightly. Raimundo felt the gloves on Clay's hands, worn but sturdy, and suddenly realized that he'd probably be friends with this boy. Looking at him now, though, this down-to-earth-looking hometown boy with the large hat and freckled face, it somehow seemed unlikely. Clay, on the other hand, noted the sparks in the Brazilian boy's eyes, flickering with something he felt he should've known, but couldn't exactly place. He wondered if he'd ever find out.

The plane was airborne once more, and the boys made very few comments. If Raimundo had thought things would liven up once he had company, he was wrong. If anything, things became awkward... at first. But gradually, the two found themselves slipping into a detached comfort with each other, not really friends yet, but making a few tentative steps. The talking was short, but persistent.

Raimundo shifted uncomfortably in his chair and groaned. "Ugh, I've been sitting in this same, stupid chair since Rio de Janeiro!"

Clay couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "Well, why didn't ya stretch your legs when you had the chance?"

"Didn't cross my mind," Raimundo grumbled. He picked up the book, glanced at it, closed it, put it back (stuffed between himself and the armrest) leaned back and sighed heavily, shifting. He remained like that for a moment, and then got the book out again and repeated the process. The whole time, Clay watched with an amused expression.

"You're goin' into reruns," the cowboy observed.

Raimundo snapped out of his routine to look at Clay. "Huh?"

Clay grinned slightly. "You were repeatin' yourself, pardner."

The Brazilian blinked a few times, then said, "Oh." He then just looked at the book cover.

"Whatcha readin', anyway?" asked Clay, craning his neck slightly to see the title. Quickly, the former circus star hid the book from the cowboy's view and, not noticing the upward motion of his eyebrows, tried to explain.

"It's – it's just a – a going away present; from a friend. From my _sibling's_ friend," said Raimundo, a little stiffly.

Usually, Clay wouldn't have pressed any further. But he was, after all, an older brother, and his teasing instincts (after being shelved for a while) would not be suppressed any longer. "Then can I see?" he asked casually, reaching for the book.

Raimundo immediately stuffed Teens and Teddies deeper into the seat. "No!" he yelped, earning a few annoyed "Shh!"s from the passengers around them. After whispering an apology to everyone at large, the former circus star fixed Clay Bailey with a glare, which was greeted with surprising calmness. "For crying out loud, can't you tell when someone doesn't want to show you something?"

Chuckling slightly, Clay put his hands up in a manner of being unarmed. "Sorry," he said, a sincere apology in his eyes. "I just couldn't resist, is all."

"Hmph; well," grumbled Raimundo, crossing his arms and huddling moodily into his seat.

Another small silence invaded the air around them. In this space of time, Clay wished that he'd brought something to do. To occupy his mind, he looked around the plane, trying to gather himself. He knew for a fact that it was always good to know where you were and which way to go. But all he gathered from this place was that he was stuffed in a small chair amongst other small chairs, in which were stuffed other passengers, some old, some young, some asleep, and some looking like they wished they were asleep, and that he was sitting next to a grumpy Brazil boy, who he'd be training with before too long. And he thought about that: training. The Fung fellow who'd showed up at the family ranch not too long ago said that it would be unlike what he was used to. He'd also mentioned a boy who was already training there, and Clay wondered how they'd get on... So far, it seemed that he'd already ruined chances of being friends with the boy sitting next to him.

He became aware of eyes watching him, and turned to meet a startling green. Unbidden, he felt a memory explode in his brain-

_A_ _paw burst through a flimsy wooden door, groping in vain for Jesse, whimpering behind Clay-_

"Uh, dude?"

Clay blinked, and found he was looking at the confused face of Raimundo Pedrosa. Blinking again, he finally realized how vibrant green the boy's eyes were. Feisty, fierce, cool, and (this surprised him) a little wise, but the eyes were a very close shade to that monster's.

_But not menacing, or filled with all that hate_, he thought. _How can something be so familiar, but so different?_

"Clay?" Raimundo looked a little worried. It made a startling difference in his demeanor; suddenly, Raimundo was a lot more...well...likeable.

Clay shook himself and forced out as natural a grin he could. "Sorry, Rai; just got a little sidetracked, that's all." Raimundo raised a thick eyebrow, and Clay felt a little uncomfortable. Shifting, Clay asked, "Uh, did you want to ask me something?"

Raimundo gave him a look of suspicion, and then fell into a casual coolness. "I was just wondering why you acted like you did about the book."

The cowboy tried not to show his confusion. Why had he?

"It just reminds of how my brothers and sisters treat me."

Cold emptiness slid down Clay's throat and settled in his stomach. _Sisters. Right._

"I've got eight of 'em: Chrys, then steps Ballari, Ethan, and Alvaro, then the youngers-" A small, fond smile crept onto his face here. "-Zac, twins Kia and Kari, and Arvin. Weird bunch, but hey, they're family."

For a few moments, Raimundo seemed lost in fond memories of his siblings. Then he cast a look at the stone-faced Clay. Masking his surprise, Raimundo asked casually, "Got any siblings?"

Unwilling and unable to neither confirm nor deny Raimundo's query, Clay made a few noncommittal grunts and, pulling his hat over his eyes, leaned back in his chair, as though he were trying to sleep. Disappointed as he was, Raimundo knew that there were some questions that just wouldn't be answered right away, and leaned back in his seat as well.

Time passed, and the boys said little more to each other. Clay had obviously been put off by the sibling question, and Raimundo wasn't all that keen on pressing any more buttons. When they landed in Tokyo, however, Raimundo really needed to stretch his legs, and the only way he'd be able to take a walk was if Clay moved.

"Clay?" The cowboy said nothing. "...Um, we've landed in Tokyo." Still nothing. With a sigh, Raimundo started poking him. "C'mon, man, I need to walk around. Please?"

With a heavy sigh, Clay straightened his hat, got up, and made room for Raimundo to get out of his seat. Grinning his thanks, Raimundo passed the cowboy, who settled back into his seat, knowing full well that pretty soon he'd be squashed between two strangers...

But if he was honest, Raimundo wasn't thinking about that. His thoughts had, once again, gone back to Rio de Janeiro, and he sighed. How could he have ever thought poorly of it? And what about all the people he was, once again, leaving behind? He had to admit: when he first ran away he hadn't expected to be saying goodbye a second-

"OW!"

"HEY!"

Suddenly, the boy was on the floor with no clear idea of how he'd gotten there. All he knew was that he'd bumped into something, something that had shouted as they both fell. Grimacing, the boy sat up, putting a hand to his head as a female voice started to speak.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you..."

"S'alright," he mumbled, eyes closed. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Neither was I, to tell the truth," said the girl. She sounded a little nervous. "I am _so sorry_. I was preoccupied... there're these two kids I'm supposed to meet, you see; we're going to be training together at some temple in China. It was a little exciting when I first heard about it, actually, but now I'm wondering what I was thinking. Papa needs me, y'know; well, no, you don't, but now you do. But he was really supportive of it, said that it would do me good. And I'm going to get some new friends, but from the sounds of it they're all going to be boys; Papa was kind've put off by that, but he still let me come." There was a small pause. When she spoke next, she sounded a little embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry I talk so much! Seriously, I don't really talk like this, so much, so fast, it's just that I can't talk to my friend Keiko or Papa on this plane and... I'm nervous."

Somehow Raimundo had little difficulty in believing that. "It's okay," he said. "I'm pretty much alone on this plane, and, if I'm honest, I'm a little nervous, too."

She uttered a soft laugh, and the boy felt goosebumps running up his arms and spine with a surprisingly delightful shiver. He opened his eyes and looked at the girl he'd bumped into for the first time.

She was roughly his age, he thought, though clearly shorter. Her face was like a china doll, and looked like it was made of porcelain. Her cheeks were a faded pink, and the sapphire eyes, though nervous, held gentleness and authority. Obviously, she was rich. Her hair was blonde, and wrapped into a long ponytail with a long blue ribbon; he doubted that it was her true color. Of course, her outfit defied all the words in his vocabulary, and he couldn't hope to describe it, except that it was white, red, and blue, and she had long, fingerless, white gloves. Besides the backpack she wore, there was a carry-on bag was well.

Looking into her face, Raimundo realized that she looked familiar. From where he couldn't exactly place, but those eyes... he'd definitely seen them before. And as he tried to place her face he was struck by something else. He felt a blush working its way into his cheeks, but fought it down.

"Erm," he said, offering his hand, "I'm Raimundo Pedrosa."

"Raimundo?" she said. She smiled and took his hand; the touch of her fingertips caused another pleasant shiver to run up his spine. "Kimiko Tohomiko."

As they shook hands, the Brazilian felt one of his eyebrows rise. "Tohomiko?" he repeated, releasing her hand. Suddenly Kimiko seemed a little uncomfortable. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a Toshiro-"

"Well, I've gotta go!" she said quickly, gathering up her bags and standing up. Raimundo followed suit, feeling confused. "Need to find my seat, y'know!" She began walking quickly away, but then she slowed and turned, so that she was walking backwards. "Maybe I'll see you before I get to China? Anyways, bye!"

And she walked away, purpose in each stride. Raimundo could only stare after her, feeling confused.

_...She's cute._

Raimundo drew up short, his heart pounding, and put his head in his hands. _Oh, I did NOT just think that._

_**Oh-ho, yes you did!**_ said a teasing voice at the back of his mind.

_Whatever,_ he thought, straightening his hoody needlessly and walking back to his seat. _I think a lot of girls are cute._

_**Yeah right**__,_ the voice shot back slyly. _**You think a lot of girls are **__**hot**__**. "Cute" obviously means that you-**_

_I do not._

_**Yes, you do! You're blushing!**_

Though the heat in his cheeks obviously gave him away, Raimundo wasn't going to back down. _Am not!_

_**Are too!**_

"Am not!" he snapped, stopping in his tracks. He blinked, and looked to the side. A few people sitting in the seats next to him were staring at him with expressions that were half scared, half concerned. The boy mumbled, "Sorry," and picked up the pace.

When his row came into sight, it was to see Kimiko shuffling through her bag stored above her seat for something. The heat in his face increased, but he swallowed and fought it down again. Slowing his steps to a more casual pace, he reached the row, and found that Kimiko and Clay were already talking casually about the plane ride ahead. He was right next to them now; Kimiko, with her back turned, did not see him, but Clay noticed him and gave him a nod in greeting, which Raimundo returned. He found his eyes straying to Kimiko's face, and from his angle he could see half of her face, a gentle smile clearly there. Another blush (thankfully a faint one) had found his face again, and Clay, who noticed, sent him a teasing smirk. Raimundo returned it with a glare.

"Um, can I get into my seat, please?"

Kimiko jumped violently and stared at him. "Oh, you were chosen, too?" When Raimundo nodded, she smiled and stood out of the way.

With a good-natured sigh, Clay moved so that Raimundo could get to his seat, and minutes later they were in the air again, seated and preoccupying themselves with different things. Raimundo had once again, albeit reluctantly, returned to his book, struggling to hide the title and summary from his fellow passengers; Clay had pulled his hat back over his eyes, obviously trying to fall asleep again; Kimiko had what she'd been looking for: makeup. Currently, she was applying the finishing touches. That done, she closed the items, placed them in their box, and put them on the floor; taking out a brush, she started fiddling with the final touches to her hair while looking into a small, hand-held mirror. With a heavy sigh, Raimundo closed the book, placed it on his lap (hands cleverly hiding anything that would give it away) and stared up at the ceiling. Then he gave voice to what had been nagging him.

"So...you both met, er, Fung?"

Neither of his fellow passengers paused in what they were doing or even gave him a glance. Kimiko uttered a distracted "Mm-hmm," while Clay said, "We're here, aren't we?" (Clearly, he wasn't asleep.)

"And what do you think about the kid he mentioned?"

"Dunno," said Kimiko, putting the brush with the makeup and scrutinizing herself. "Haven't met the kid, have I?"

Clay shrugged. "He can't be too bad, can he?"

_I can imagine…_, Raimundo thought, but didn't say anything.

--_P_--

He'd come to his destination. The traveler couldn't suppress a grin. For a year now he'd been waiting for this moment, when the ambition he'd set for himself would be shown and recognized by someone who understood. All the same, he had to admit this wasn't how he'd pictured it.

It was dark up here, like it was under a cover of smoke in a fire; the mist hung like an army of grey ghosts, shifting silently through the rocks. Silence was all there was here, for everything seemed to avoid this place: plant and animal life, water, even the wind, none of it was here, except for a few dead brambles scattered among the rocks. It was like nothing lived here...but he knew better.

Soon there was a sound he'd been waiting for: shifting rock, small pebbles shifted just so from their positions. Paw-steps crept up the mountain side; they could've been drowned out by a slight breeze. The traveler stayed where he was, calm. One of the things this creature was drawn by was fear, and he didn't want it to be going into a hunting frenzy.

Then he saw a large shape out of the corner of his eyes. He subtly watched it move towards him. It disappeared behind the large rocks before him, and after a few moments of waiting, it leapt onto the boulder just in front of him. The cat he'd been waiting for, though he could not see the markings. Mist curled from its nostrils each time it exhaled, and the narrowed, glowing green eyes looked at him, unimpressed; he met them calmly, looking indifferent.

_A thetishakan_, he thought. He couldn't repress a ripple of surprise. _Spicer was right..._

"Not many come here," said the thetishakan. "To that, I honor you," it added with a mock bow. Its voice was smooth, like silk, with just the hint of a growl, and made it easy to identify the cat as male. But it was cold, so cold that he almost took a step back, but he fought against it. The man sensed a smile curve onto his lips as an amused spark glittered in the glowing eyes. Then it disappeared back into the freezing indifference. "What business do you come to me with?"

"A proposition, thetishakan," said the man; he saw his breath puff up before him. Though he knew that the cat was trying to remain aloof, the traveler saw his ears prick upwards with interest. He paused, and then asked, "If I may be so bold, do you have a name?"

The cat-like creature hesitated, fixing its visitor with a very curious stare. "...Wraith." Wraith's nostrils widened as he inhaled the traveler's sent. "You smell familiar... Have we met before now?"

A grim, humorless smile curled onto the man's face. "Why, yes; yes we have, though it's a long story..."

Wraith took in another sniff, and stepped back with an angry snarl. "That scent belongs to Chase Young! What wouldst you be doing with him?"

"You two have met before?" asked the stranger, interested.

"I know him only through reputation; he knows naught of me." He gave an angry snort. "The fool; he is a mighty man- strong, clever- but weak. He refuses to let go of memories that hinder him from _true_ strength."

Interested, the traveler asked, "What memories?"

"You know of his background?"

"I've been training with him for six years now, and it's a wonder that he put up with me so long; it was bound to come up at some point."

"Then you wouldst know of the changes that have been coming over him over the last few years?"

"I've noticed, yes."

"Hmph; 'noticed'," growled Wraith, pacing back and forth on his rock. He shot Chase Young's apprentice a dirty look. "What is your opinion of him?"

The traveler raised an unseen eyebrow. "I hold a level of respect for him-" Wraith snorted, but he continued doggedly. "-but he doesn't take advantage of the intimidation he holds upon the world. He holds power, but does not use it. And as such, I have come to you."

Wraith stopped in his pacing, and looked at his visitor, ears pricked and tail twitching from side to side. "You spoke of a proposition... What plan do you have?"

"It holds a lot of back story..."

"Then we will just have to get comfortable, won't we?" said Wraith, settling into a comfortable position. "Do not look at me in such a manner."

"...You can see me?" said the traveler, unable to stop himself from staring.

"These eyes can see more than blades of grass, youth," said the cat, grinning.

The visitor paused, then, sighing, sat down as comfortably as he could. "Fine. Well, it all begins with- you."

--_P_--

_He's __**got**__ to be kidding._

Raimundo stared at the image of himself in the mirror, feeling slightly horrified at what he saw.

Immediately upon seeing the Xiaolin Temple, Raimundo realized that things would be strict, which was all the more reinforced when he clapped eyes on Omi. He'd forgotten it slightly in the excitement of everything that had passed since their arrival: Meeting Omi, hearing about Wuya, the Shen-Gong-Wu, the Mantis Flip-Coin revealing itself, seeing Dojo in his true form (he made sure that he _never_ called him a gecko again,) meeting Jack Spicer and Wuya, and all the Shen-Gong-Wu chasing. Not to mention that Xiaolin Showdown. Ever since he'd seen Omi go up against Jack, he felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of doing one himself; he knew that it would be unlike anything he'd experienced before; even the first time on the trapeze.

But now it was back to reality, and facing what Master Fung had required all of them to wear. (He recalled that Kimiko wasn't too happy about having to take the hair-dye out and make-up off.)

A tiny groan escaped him. _Robes._ Felix had teased him endlessly about having to wear them; Raimundo hoped that he wouldn't be running into the red-head while wearing these.

Although...he couldn't deny that they were pretty comfortable...

He shook his head violently, his face hardening. It was just this place, that was all...it was having a weird effect on him...

All the magic that was here...

The Brazilian sighed in defeat, and went to join the others around the temple. To his surprise, he'd really enjoyed spending time with these strangers. He suddenly found himself imagining future Wu and all the showdowns that they'd have to go through: all the fights with Jack, his Jackbots, and Wuya...how much closer he'd get with these three odd kids...

"Raimundo!"

With a yell, Raimundo whirled on the spot. Short, round-headed Omi was standing there, looking at him with fathomless curiosity.

"You seem preoccupied; is anything the matter?"

Raimundo shook himself, and became aware of falling back into bully-mode. "I'm fine! What makes you think somethin's wrong, anyway?"

Omi blinked. "Is it wrong for me to be concerned when you seem lost?"

The older boy just looked at the monk before him; there was no hostility in Omi's eyes, no suspicion, no dishonesty. There was just...curiosity; openness; trust. Here stood a boy uncorrupted by the world he'd been sheltered from. All he had known was within these temple walls.

Suddenly, Raimundo felt a stab of jealousy. Omi had never known the terror of knowing a loved one was in danger, the helplessness of seeing a broken heart... the pain of realizing that someone had left you, and she wasn't coming back, not for you...

But then again...

Raimundo turned from Omi and started walking down the hallway; Omi looked after him for a moment, and then sprinted forward to walk at his elbow. "What makes you think I look lost?"

Skipping along at the boy's side, Omi merely stated, "You seemed confused; Master Fung says that when one is confused, they are 'lost'. I've heard him use the word at least once to describe confusion; it seems fitting, that's all."

"Sort of like 'pretty boy' for a kid you really don't like," said Raimundo, a small grin finding his face.

Omi gave him a blank stare.

"Oh, you know," said Raimundo, stopping and turning to face the boy fully. "It's like, the guy's too handsome, and you really don't like him...?"

All Omi did was blink.

"Forget it," he mumbled, walking away from the still blinking monk.

"...Why would you insult someone by saying they are handsome?" asked a befuddled Omi.

"I said forget it," said Raimundo, louder.

Omi didn't move from his spot. For a few more moments, he only stared after the Pedrosa. Then he shouted, "Master Fung would wish to talk with us! Inform Kimiko, and I will search for Clay!"

Raimundo waved a hand absently to show he heard, and then heard Omi's distant footsteps patter away. The boy snorted; inform Kimiko...

_**Of course, he sends you after the one you've got a crush on.**_

"You again!" he groaned.

_**Who were you expecting, the tooth fairy?**_

"Could you please shut up and leave me in peace?"

_**I'd rather annoy you than leave you ignorant and have you mess up in front of her...again.**_

_Again?_ "Who the heck are you, anyway?"

_**Try your common sense.**_

"Funny, you could use some of your own. I do not, I repeat, _do not_, have a crush on Miss Tohomiko."

_**That was a double negative.**_

"..._Please_ shut up?"

_**Why are you denying this when it's blatantly true?**_

"Because it isn't?"

_**Oh, come on! If Clay hadn't been sitting between you two, you would've been staring at her the whole trip-**_

"Shut up!"

"Who should shut up?"

Struck by sudden deja-vu, it took a second for Raimundo to realize that it was Kimiko who'd spoken, her voice muffled by a door. Master Fung had been generous enough to give them each separate rooms to change in. He sighed, and though he already knew that Kimiko knew he was out there, knocked softly.

She sighed; whether with amusement or exasperation, it was hard to tell. "Yes?"

"Omi says Master Fung wants to talk to us; all of us."

"Did he say where?"

"...No."

"Hooray," Kimiko sighed. There was a pause, and it lasted long enough for Raimundo to start to wonder. He leaned in slightly and rapped his knuckles on the door.

"Uh, Kim?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you coming out of there?"

There was another pause.

"...Yeah," she sighed in defeat.

"Then, erm, won't you?"

There was a few seconds' silence before Kimiko sighed again. "Fine; but if you laugh, you'll find yourself in the same state I left Spicer's Jackbots."

Raimundo shrugged. "Fair enough."

He backed away from the door, and, slowly, with a soft creak, it cracked open a little. Raimundo found himself dancing on the spot.

_**A little anxious to see Miss Tohomiko, aren't we?**_

_Didn't I tell you to shut up?_

_**Fine.**_ But he could almost sense the voice wearing a smug smile.

Kimiko hesitated a little longer, as though this was a threshold over which there would be no going back. Quite suddenly, Raimundo knew how she felt, but couldn't exactly place it on one thing. Finally, she just threw the door open-

-and there stood Kimiko Tohomiko.

Raimundo wasn't exactly sure what had happened. All he knew was that his heart was racing, he looked like a slack-jawed idiot, and that he found Kimiko Tohomiko very pretty indeed. The Kimiko that had stepped out of the room was different from the one he'd met earlier that day. Her raven-black hair was pulled up into two pigtails, held there by red ribbons, her robes giving her a simple elegance he wasn't at all aware girls could achieve. Suddenly, her blue eyes seemed so much brighter, despite the disgruntled look upon her face.

...Or, maybe he did have a _slight _crush on her after all...

**_Told ya_**, said the voice smugly. Returning to his senses, he shoved it impatiently away.

"This is really not my style...," she said unhappily.

"You look..." He struggled with the words before speaking the (in his opinion) totally inadequate, "...fine."

Kimiko raised an eyebrow. "That took a while to say."

"No! Really, you look fine. Great, even!"

"Look," she chuckled. For a moment, the familiarity he'd felt earlier was overwhelming. "I'm all for compliments, but don't you think you're pushing it?"

"I'm being serious."

Her eyebrows bounced up. "Oh," she said, looking at him with a surprised expression. "I have to admit...from the way you were acting earlier..."

When she didn't finish her sentence, Raimundo felt a thrill of foreboding. "What?"

She merely shook her head. "Nothing."

Raimundo swallowed as he felt a miniscule jab of pain somewhere in his chest, not really sure of what it was. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"Ah! You are still here?"

The words turned into a sigh, and the two looked in the direction of the voice to see Omi, beaming at them, and Clay not far behind. The cowboy looked a little peculiar, wearing that cowboy hat along with his robes; Raimundo stifled a snicker. Clay and Omi seemed to have not noticed, but Kimiko, still right next to him, gave him a stern look and elbowed him roughly in the arm. He immediately sobered and started rubbing his arm, scowling. That was the second bruise she'd given him that day.

_**Must be love!**_

"Shut it," he grumbled under his breath.

"What was that you said, Raimundo?" asked Omi cheerfully. Raimundo suddenly realized that Omi had been speaking to Kimiko, probably on how she looked. It took another second to figure out that no one had overheard him.

"Nothing," he said, trying to pull a grin. "Just thinking aloud, that's all."

Omi seemed satisfied, though Kimiko gave him a scrutinizing look before turning back to the other companions.

"Well," said Clay, his eyes sweeping over them all. "Ain't we a drill team?"

Raimundo blinked. Leaning in towards Kimiko, he whispered, "What?"

"I think he's commenting on our matching robes," Kimiko whispered back.

Mouthing "Oh," Raimundo resumed a normal posture and nodded. "Yeah. Think Master Fung'll have us doing a tap-dance session?"

Clay smirked while Kimiko rolled her eyes and said good-naturedly, "Rai..." Omi, meanwhile, merely gave him a confused look.

"He wants us to dance?"

The other three groaned and said, "Never mind!"

--_P_--

It was impossible to determine how much time had passed, for darkness reigned upon this part of the mountain. Wraith and Young's Apprentice, as Wraith had nicknamed him, had not moved from their positions. Silent, the tip of Wraith's tail (which was developing a greenish glow) twitched from side to side as the thetishakan contemplated what his visitor had told him, the green eyes staring at nothing somewhere above the man's head. Young's Apprentice watched the cat-like creature with silent patience. If anything Frederick Spicer had told him was useful, it was that you never, ever, rushed a thetishakan. Suddenly Wraith's tail lay still, and the green eyes were fixed upon the visitor.

"That is quite a tale you have told me, Young's Apprentice." A wry smile worked at the corner's of Wraith's mouth. "Yes, I remember you quite clearly: the whelp who bravely struggled to defend his brother. Who could have known it would lead to this?"

"Very few, I imagine," muttered the traveler.

"I must admit, I had never considered the consequences of our meeting." Wraith flicked his tail thoughtfully. "Most curious..."

"So? What do you think?"

For a long moment, Wraith said nothing, studying his visitor with narrowed eyes. Then he said, "Before I give you my answer, I must explain my predicament. Do you agree to hear me out?"

The traveler nodded.

"Good." He paused briefly. "You must understand: I do not stay in this place by choice. Due to rash, foolish actions on my part, my superiors thought me dangerous to my race, and bound me to this mountain years ago. ...I suppose they would have killed me, if not for my standings in the balance..." He shook his head. "In any case, because of my wild choices, I am now prisoner to this place."

Young's Apprentice seemed to deflate slightly as he absorbed this information. "You're stuck here?"

"Quite so."

"Is there anything we can do about it?"

Wraith did not answer immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes, lying perfectly still. After a moment, his eyes opened. "Soon, my bond to this place will be weakened. Between the two of us, this lapse in strength should be sufficient for us to release me."

"How soon?'

Wraith looked into the distance, thinking. He nodded to himself. "A year."

Beneath the hood, the traveler's jaw dropped. "A _year_?"

Wraith looked at the traveler as though it were obvious. "Yes; a year, at the very least." The green eyes were curious as he peered at his visitor. "I told you, the bond would be weak enough to break very soon."

"You call a year's time _soon_?" snorted Young's Apprentice.

The cat tilted his head at the traveler; then he seemed to understand, and shook his head. "I forgot; you are such a young creature. A year's time will seem very long to you, but I assure you, it is not very long at all." He raised a paw to cut off his visitor's retort. "It was sitting still that taught me caution and discretion. I suggest you use this year to learn as well. Complete your training, and gather information."

"What information?"

Here, Wraith grinned. "Whatever information you think necessary for us to succeed: Things that will be useful...and knowledge of whatever may try to block our path."

The cat creature turned, leapt off the boulder, and vanished into the mists and darkness. "A year, Young's Apprentice..." Wraith's voice seemed to echo off every rock. "Use it wisely."

The man listened to the cat's voice fade, and stared after the animal with a grim expression. "A year it is, then."

--_P_--

Night settled in over the Xiaolin Temple; the first night the quartet, now to be called Dragons-in-training, would spend together.

Much to the newcomers' chagrin, however, they'd be more or less sharing a room. All that qualified the small, rectangular spaces as rooms were the dividing curtains. Within these rooms was a mat that they'd use to sleep on, and their stuff, which had been carried there by other monks in the temple while they were all getting to know each other (specifically, Omi trying to "teach his new pupils" and things not exactly going his way.)

In the first room, Kimiko began setting things up in a way she liked. She had just changed into her pajamas, and doing a little last-minute sorting. Finally, she paused on a picture of her and Papa, and found herself overcome by a wave of homesickness. Papa... This would be her first night outside of Tokyo without him. Sure, she'd attended sleepovers with Keiko and other friends, but...those times, she hadn't been hundreds of miles away...

She sniffed brusquely and wiped a threatening tear away. She couldn't cry... The next morning, she would begin her training as a Dragon of Fire. Besides, she was the only girl amongst them, and she could tell that they already weren't going to take her seriously. She'd have to change that...

Turning off the individual light above her, Kimiko settled onto the mat and stared up at the ceiling, thinking. _The Dragon of Fire_... A smile fluttered across her lips. The name was so...well..._powerful_. There was a hitch in her breath each time she thought the name. It gave her courage, and when she thought about it, she'd forget her homesickness, if only for a second. Dragon of Fire...

Her eyes closed and she tried to make herself more comfortable.

It seemed so..._fitting_.

Over in the third room, Clay's light was already off, and he'd already gotten into bed, eyes closed, and things just how he wanted them. The saddle beneath the boy's head was of surprisingly great reassurance. But there was a double purpose for it. One, to keep him comfortable (he already knew he'd never be able to get used to the pillows they had here.) The other...was to help him remember just who he was in this strange, new world he'd encountered.

The boy wasn't asleep yet, though. As comforting as the saddle was, it wasn't enough to make him forget that he was away from home. For the first time in his life, he wasn't sleeping in his bed. For the first time in his life, he wasn't in Texas, the land he loved.

He missed the night air blowing through his open window on summer nights. Coyotes howling far off in the distance, the occasional call of a night bird, and crickets serenading all that bothered to listen...Daddy's snores and Mom getting up once in a while to get a drink...

...Jesse.

Anger invading his stomach, he impatiently shoved the thought of his sister out of his mind. _She isn't missing you_, he thought grimly to himself, _so you shouldn't be missing her!_

But as much as he wanted it to, that didn't take away the sharp pain in his heart.

He sighed heavily and tried to concentrate on what he'd be facing here. He had three new friends: Omi, often naïve and far too trusting, but fierce in a battle and completely loyal; Kimiko, fearless and fast acting; Raimundo, swift and- he grinned to himself- a trouble maker.

He...he was the Dragon of Earth. And Clay, lying there in a foreign darkness in a foreign land, vowed that he would live up to what a Dragon of Earth should be.

In the room by the wall, Omi wasn't asleep, either. He lay on his mat, excitement bubbling up within him.

He had friends! Well, technically, they weren't fully friends yet, but he knew that they soon would be. Certainly they were odd, certainly they were things he'd never encountered before...but they were his age. They were young. They were still learning.

Just as he was.

For as long as he could remember, Omi had always had a distinct feeling of something missing. Master Fung and Dojo were always there to help him with something...but they were more of parental figures, not friends. Even Dojo, the more lenient of the two, couldn't be qualified as a friend. But he had a strange feeling that, in the days to come, that would change...

Now he knew, though, because, lying there in that room he found so familiar, Omi felt fuller than he had in all his twelve years of life.

Suddenly, he realized that it wasn't as dark as it should have been; a faint light was glowing through the darkness. Curiosity piqued, Omi crawled to the edge of his room and peered out. The shadow of a young figure was cast from the light shining from the second room. Omi raised an eyebrow.

The fact was, Raimundo was standing at the edge of his room, dressed in his pajamas, teeth brushed, and arms crossed to fit his disgruntled manner.

A mat.

Not a bed.

A _mat_.

At the moment, he felt a little insulted. There was no way he'd be able to sleep on that thing. He'd had a better bed at the moth-infested hotel he'd had to stay in the previous night. And he had traveled all that way for what?

A mat.

Forget feeling a little insulted, he felt maligned. But he had to be thankful for the dividers; he would've died of embarrassment if the others found out about Ninja Fred. (Not that he was ashamed of Ninja Fred. He just wanted to spare them both from certain near-fatal teasing.)

He stepped further inside his "room" and looked around, feeling dismal.

...Actually, he wasn't that upset about the bed. (Well, he was, but it was outweighed.) Like he'd been forced to admit before, he'd enjoyed the time he'd had with these three, and looking forward to, well, his future in this place. He had a good feeling about it.

There was something intangible about this place. He could sense it so clearly that he felt that he could just reach out and touch it. But the longer he'd stayed there, the more he came to realize that it was a presence, heightened by the Showdown he'd witnessed earlier and the Shen-Gong-Wu they'd retrieved.

_Magic._

It was everywhere: the garden, the vault, Dojo, Master Fung, even his new friends. It rose inside him and gave him a pleasurable tickle. He'd never truly experienced something so potent...

Maybe that was why he was still awake, while everyone else was clearly asleep; he was scared that, if he went to sleep, when he woke up the magical feeling would be gone, unrecoverable. Or maybe it was something else.

Try as he may to fight it, however, there was no stopping his drooping eyelids. He rubbed his eyes and struggled to stifle a yawn.

Then he stiffened. He was almost certain he'd heard floorboards creak under someone's (or as he'd learned from past experience, something's) weight, creeping up on him. Not making any sudden moves, he turned very slowly around to see-

"What do you want?" he sighed, relaxing immediately and rubbing his eyes.

Omi was peeking into Raimundo's room. Knowing he was found out, he sprang into full view.

"I want nothing," he said, shrugging.

He gave the small monk a strange look. "Then...why are you here?"

The little boy smiled. "I was only..." He seemed a little embarrassed about admitting it. "I was only making sure...today was not just a dream."

Once he'd said that, he peeked into Kimiko's room, and grinned. Then he beamed at Raimundo. "I will see you in the morning, right?" And he sprinted away.

Raimundo stared blankly at the space Omi had just occupied, and muttered, "Sure...yeah..."

Giving himself a little shake, Raimundo was forced to stifle another yawn as he turned out his light at last. Still feeling a little disgruntled, he settled onto the mat, pulling the blanket over him as he shifted on his new bed. Lying still for a few moments, he tried to relax; then he sighed and shifted a little more, making a few disgruntled noises to himself.

In all honesty, he was glad of it. Since his mind was so preoccupied with the fact that he was sleeping on a mat, he wasn't thinking about his homesickness.

He paused and exhaled slowly, eyes flickering open as he looked up towards the ceiling. It was hard to believe that he'd once thought Rio de Janeiro was of little consequence...

Inhaling sharply, he tried to distract his brain. It landed on the topic of his new title. He blinked, his mind flickering back to the moment Omi realized he wasn't a teacher at all, and was forced to fight back a laugh at Omi's reaction.

He was Dragon of the Wind, eh? He couldn't say he was surprised.

Very, very faintly, Raimundo heard the wind rustling outside, and allowed himself a small, secretive grin. _So...that's why I followed you..._, he thought silently to himself. _To lead me to this, wherever it takes me?_

He wasn't aware of drifting off, no more than Omi, Kimiko, or Clay had been.

Maybe he should've paid more attention to it...like he had when he was too young to realize that what he could do was special...

The wind danced and rushed throughout the temple grounds, whispering what it could to anyone who would listen. But the only one who would, icould/i, had just drifted off to sleep, clutching his teddy bear, the only connection he had to home. It hissed to everyone awake in vain; all any of the older monks could gather was the general idea of the wind's message:

Things had been set into motion.

* * *

**Whee...**

**NOTE: I guess by this point, the Rai/Kim will be hard to ignore. But let me be clear: this story is not about Rai/Kim. Of course their relationship is an element of the story, but it's not the main focus. Just to be clear.**

**Please, review!**


	7. The First Signs

**Disclaimer:** -sigh- Not mine.

A/N: Holy crud! This story has gotten over a thousand hits! O.O Thank you, all readers, and especially you reviewers.

Ugh, this chapter didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped... -.-;

* * *

_Prophecy_

A _Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction  
Written by Calistar Heir

**Chapter Seven: The First Signs**

Raimundo raised his head, looking around. Mist hovered heavy just above the ground, but there didn't seem to be walls or a ceiling. He had the distinct feeling of being in a dome; everything around him at perhaps a fifteen-foot radius was visible, and untouched darkness waited beyond. For a moment Raimundo thought he'd entered his own mind again, but this was a different place.

There was noise somewhere: the movement of feathered wings. Raimundo looked around, searching for it, and found himself looking at a small dead tree with a single branch, which he knew had not been there seconds before. On the branch was a bird, a falcon specifically; it had sky-blue and forest-green plumage, and silver eyes...which were looking straight at him.

Raimundo blinked; the falcon did not mimic the action. He wanted to move, but his feet seemed to have been turned to stone.

It was strange; Raimundo was looking at the bird, he could see it...but he _couldn't_ see it. It was like he was staring at an optical allusion or something; it was in focus but out of focus, all at the same time.

The two stared at each other; the bird sat still as a statue, and nothing happened.

Finally, Raimundo cleared his throat. "Um...hello?"

The falcon smiled; despite that being very strange, it was a relief to Raimundo.

"Erm, can you speak?"

"...Don't be scared, Raimundo," said the falcon calmly.

The boy stared blankly at the bird. "What-?"

"Raimundo!"

Raimundo's eyes snapped open. He blinked, and Omi's face came into focus. Seeing the small monk's expression, the Brazilian felt a ripple of surprise; Omi was looking strangely lethargic, and there were barely noticeable circles under his eyes. The Dragon of Wind couldn't understand why he hadn't noticed earlier.

"You went off dozing; we were wondering when you'd be joining us!"

It took a moment for Raimundo to realize what Omi was talking about. "Soon, Omi," he yawned, shoving aside his annoyance of the interrupted dream. It wasn't just that the dream had been cut short, but the fact that his escape had been foiled accidentally. All that morning, Raimundo had been pestered by a breeze. He tried to make sense of it, but he'd been so tired that he couldn't concentrate on it. Frustrated, he'd finally just decided to take a nap and try to cool down. Now, however, he'd have to get up.

His eyes closed again, but Omi didn't move. Raimundo could feel the dark eyes looking at him, and felt a prickle of discomfort. The boy sensed that Omi wanted to ask him about something (judging by how the small monk remained where he was Raimundo felt he was right) yet as the moments passed in which Raimundo waited for him to speak, the Brazilian suspected that his friend really didn't know how to bring it up. He peeked open an eye to look at Omi, and saw that he was trying to muster up some words.

Sighing, Raimundo sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his cot. "Yes?"

Omi hesitated. "I can understand why you fell asleep...you were up late last night."

Raimundo felt confused, and all he managed was, "Huh?"

"I...," started Omi, as if he thought he shouldn't know this, "...I think I heard you breathing heavily last night. Were you out practicing?"

The Brazilian felt his stomach plummet as he remembered what Omi was referring to. Shadows had interrupted his sleep throughout the evening; off and on that night a nightmare (or as he suspected, nightmares referring to each other) had woken him up for long periods of time. They'd quickly disintegrated, however, and now all he could remember were vague shadows and shapes.

Did dealing with nightmares count as training?

"...Whatever makes you feel better, Omi," Raimundo said in a defeated tone, and, getting off the cot, walked out of the room to join his other two friends.

It didn't take long for Omi to fall into step with him, feeling better. Raimundo couldn't help the tiny stab of envy; it had taken him over a year to get over his incident with Wuya, but Omi? A few days with unnatural humility and he was his old self again. With a sudden shock, Raimundo realized that he'd slightly missed egocentric Omi.

But right now, Omi was being very quiet. This combined with the way he'd been acting seconds ago made the Dragon of Wind a little worried about what had been going on while he was asleep. Suddenly, the circles under Omi's eyes looked even darker.

"Omi?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you okay?"

Omi seemed to come out of a deep stupor, and then grinned weakly at his friend. "Fine!" said the Dragon of Water with forced cheerfulness.

Raimundo paused in his tracks and stopped his friend by putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, pal?"

For several seconds, Omi considered telling the older boy what was troubling him. But something held him back, and he shook his head. "It's alright, Raimundo. I mean you no disrespect, but I do not particularly feel like telling anyone."

The Dragon of Wind almost felt reproachful, but then he realized that he'd just done the same thing Omi did. "Fair enough," he said, starting to walk again.

But his mind wouldn't leave Omi's unusual soberness alone. Even when Dojo came scrambling up with the news of a new Shen-Gong-Wu, Raimundo was only half listening. Suddenly, when Kimiko and Clay approached, Omi brightened, acting perfectly normal; however, when the other three weren't looking at him, his face clouded into the expression Raimundo had been greeted with upon awakening. He was acting very odd...

Then a thought crept into his mind as three engaged in conversation, unaware that the other two weren't fully listening:

Why had Omi been awake in the first place?

* * *

Jack Spicer flew through the air as fast as his helipack would allow. His detecto-watch beeped out the directions quietly, drawn to the newly awakened magic. Bright-red hair was being whipped by the wind, the yellow, swirling goggles pulled down over his red eyes.

The hum of his Jackbots behind him was of little comfort. At best they only kept the _Xiaolin Losers_ busy, and even that wasn't very long... They took a lot of time and effort on his part, and he didn't particularly like asking about money for parts.

And mom wondered why he was always looking so tired these days.

He scowled to himself as he impatiently shoved his mother's concerned words from his mind; the newest Shen-Gong-Wu had to be his. He was pretty low on Wu as it was, even with the raid he'd somehow managed to pull off the previous day.

"Let's see here...," he muttered to himself. "Mwahahahaha! ...No, no, no, too overused... Myeheheheh! ...Myahahohee! Um..."

* * *

"The Pendant of Light," read Kimiko aloud to her friends, looking at the Shen-Gong-Wu scroll. Upon Dojo's back, the three boys looked at it as best they could. The circle in the middle of the scroll showed a long-chained sun-shaped pendant, and promptly went into an explanation. "It gives light to the user in...the most impenetrable of darkness?"

The scroll showed the "example man" holding it, and then vanishing in black. Suddenly he reappeared, illuminated by the glowing pendant.

Clay scratched his head. "What's it mean by 'impenetrable darkness' anyway?"

"Well, it's not talking about the natural kind, is it?" remarked Dojo, eyes shifting back to look at them.

"There is an unnatural kind?" asked Omi, eyebrows rising. He was acting far more awake than he actually was.

"Of course there is!" snorted Dojo. "But it needs a lot of power behind it... That's what makes this one and the Bracelet of Darkness among the most powerful Wu."

"That would be the Pendant of Light's sister Shen-Gong-Wu?" Kimiko inquired, closing the scroll. She brushed one of the black curls she let hang on either side of her face out of her eyes. The rest of her hair had been pulled back by a clip and allowed to fall down her back. She then fidgeted with her white top, smoothing out the sky-blue skirt and white sash.

"Duh," said Raimundo irately, rolling his eyes.

Kimiko stiffened at the tone in his voice, and whipped her head around, her eyes blazing at him. "That's the fifth condescending remark you've made since breakfast," she said angrily. "What's got _you_ in such a foul mood?"

"Mind your own beeswax," Raimundo grumbled.

"Raimundo!" said Omi; his tone was surprised. "Why are you so bothered today?"

"Yeah, Rai," Clay frowned from behind the Dragon of Wind. "You're about as irritated as a cat at a dog park."

Raimundo glared down at Dojo's scales. "Nothing's wrong," he muttered.

Clay raised an eyebrow. "And I'm a half-dead coyote."

Raimundo felt the blue eyes fixed on the back of his skull, filled with, he knew, a desire to understand why his friend was acting the way he was. Looking away from Omi's concerned gaze and Kimiko's irately quizzical stare, he struggled to blot the images of their faces from his mind...with, as usual, no success. Behind his grumpy mood, the boy felt himself in the middle of an internal war. Half of him wanted to spill everything, while the other fiercely insisted on keeping up the façade.

Shaking his head to clear it of vague nightmares and thoughts of troubled wind struggling in vain to tell him something, he sighed, "Forget it; sorry, Kimiko."

Kimiko narrowed her eyes questioningly at her friend, opened her mouth to say something, but closed it and faced front again. Omi and Clay exchanged looks; when Clay shrugged, Omi returned the action and, like Kimiko, faced forward. Raimundo was relieved to see the Japanese girl's shoulders relax as they traveled, and was further relieved when she fell into comfortable conversation with him and the other boys.

* * *

The California Redwoods were relatively quiet, the silence nearly undisturbed by the sound of a woman making her way through the trees.

She was a beautiful woman, though most would be reluctant to admit it. Slender and tanned, her green eyes glittered beneath fine eyebrows. Her hair curled down her back in vibrant red waves. The black, orient dress she wore complimented her nicely, and her slim feet were shoeless. There were very few things that suggested she wasn't human: her sharply-pointed ears, the pupils, which seemed to swirl amidst the green, and the aura that followed her everywhere. It was the feeling of someone who'd once held great power but lost it.

In fact, she _had_ held power. Fifteen-hundred years ago, she had left the world in terror where she walked, ruled over man with her dark, Heylin powers. Her memories of that time were frequent and bittersweet for her. Fury leapt up within her at the thought of that Xiaolin fool who had somehow found the way to defeat her, bringing her reign of chaos to a premature end.

She recalled him as he was alive, tall, strong, proud, powerful (she knew that all too well,) a cocky smile gracing his Chinese features. The last image of him, ending that fateful battle, had haunted her as she was trapped in limbo, robbed of everything but free-thought and her life: battered, exhausted, but dark eyes glittering with grim triumph as he hurled a seemingly unimportant puzzle-box at the unsuspecting and equally tired Heylin Witch.

"_Dashi_." The name hissed out lower than a whisper through the witch's grinding teeth.

"Who now?" asked a cool voice.

Startled, the woman jumped and whirled on the spot. Calm and collected, as always, a young handsome man, dressed in armor, stood several feet behind her, an equally handsome tiger prowling slowly around his legs. His long black hair was tinted green, ears pointed as well, and his eyes were unusually reptilian, gold with black slits for pupils. A Xiaolin Warrior who had fallen to the Heylin forces, he had sold his soul for a potion of eternal youth, the side-effect of this brew turning him into a fierce dragon.

Now, however, the only sign of his reptile side was his unusual eyes. He stood with alert ease, his eyes focused on her with calm authority. Struggling with her shock, she managed a stiff nod.

"Chase," she said quietly, her voice laced with anger, hate, and unwanted fear.

"Wuya," Chase Young replied in the same cool tone; the tiger stopped to stand at Chase's side, who began to gently scratch it one-fingered behind the ear. One eyebrow curved upwards while his eyes remained unsurprised. "Gone Shen-Gong-Wu hunting, have you?"

Wuya's eyes flashed, but she stifled it hastily. This man had managed to restrict her of her powers; someone as gifted as that was someone to be cautious of. Controlling her voice, she said, "Surely you don't want the Xiaolin monks getting hold of such a powerful Shen-Gong-Wu, would you?"

"I don't care for Shen-Gong-Wu," said Chase brusquely. "Relying on objects that can easily be taken away from you is foolish."

"And you're saying I shouldn't, either?" Wuya asked; she couldn't keep the edge out of her voice.

Something close to amusement entered the Heylin warrior's face. "You don't _need_ it, do you?"

Wuya didn't answer this. She was well aware of the fact that Chase knew she needed Shen-Gong-Wu to return to her full power. She cast around for a change of subject, but it was not needed; Chase suddenly stiffened and looked around, eyes narrowed. The witch was confused for a moment, but then realized that she sensed it, too. Her eyes swept slowly around the forestry, but she saw nothing. Still, she wasn't satisfied.

Neither, it seemed, was Chase.

Lowering himself onto one knee, the fallen warrior hissed a few instructions into the tiger's ear. The tiger nodded, and, silent as a breeze, padded away and disappeared into the forestry. Chase straightened, nodding approvingly after the cat.

"He'll tell us if he sees anything strange," he said with reassurance. The warrior turned and fixed Wuya with one reptilian eye. "I suppose you'll be going for the Pendant of Light?"

Wuya stiffened with surprise. "You-"

"If I don't let you go now, you'll just sneak away from me and cause me a chase that I don't want," said Chase with a false sigh.

The Heylin witch raised one delicate eyebrow. "...You just want to find out what's stalking us, don't you?"

"Very perceptive," said Chase coolly. He brushed past Wuya, stone-faced. "Now come along, before I change my mind!"

Wuya narrowed her eyes after him, but followed without a word. Within the treetops, two very different pairs of eyes watched as the witch and warrior walked soundlessly through the forest, and completely aware of the striped feline stalking them, slipped after the two without disturbing a single leaf.

* * *

"Yosemite National Park, coming in," said Dojo, beginning his descent into the tall trees.

The dragon distinctly heard Kimiko hiss, "_Finally_." He glanced back briefly with narrowed eyes but didn't rise to the girl's impatient remark.

Almost immediately, everything that'd been troubling Raimundo that morning was shoved to the back of his mind by strange adrenalin that wasn't normally associated with Shen-Gong-Wu hunting. An incoherent question was starting to nag at the back of his mind, but he pushed that down for later.

Once on the ground, the monks hopped off of Dojo, who shrunk to his smaller size and took his usual position atop Clay's hat, and the group stood where they'd landed, looking around at the tall trees.

Eyes scanning the large trees, Raimundo asked, "Any ideas?"

"Not really," said Kimiko, scraping the ground with one stylish brown boot.

Clay squatted close the ground and felt the soil, allowing his element to run through his fingers and enjoying its cool softness, so unlike the dirt found on a Texas prairie. Looking back up, the boy remarked, "It's probably best that we stick together."

Omi nodded in agreement, his eyes wide as they remained fixed on the sequoias. "Quite," he murmured. "The foliage here is most vast, and- Raimundo, what are you doing?"

Raimundo had frozen, standing stiff-limbed and wide-eyed; when Omi spoke, he lifted a hand for silence. The others stared at the Dragon of Wind with confusion. It was almost as if he'd stopped breathing, eyes scanning the sky.

"Don't tell me I'm the only one who hears that...," he said quietly.

The others strained their ears, and heard it too: a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like a pair of mini helicopters, accompanied by the familiar sound of flying machinery. Suddenly, Jack Spicer zoomed by overhead, and stopped to hover several feet above them, smirking.

"Well, well! Hello, Xiaolin Losers!"

"Jack Spicer," growled Omi, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, me!" said Jack, looking down at them and taking their hostile looks in stride. "Usually I'd sic my Jackbots on you-" He scowled briefly at the silent sniggers coming from his enemies. "-but since I'm in such a good mood right now-"

"Spare us your pathetic excuses of torture!" Omi interrupted regally. "We have better things to waste our time upon!"

"Speaking of which, _could someone just find and grab the stupid Shen-Gong-Wu?_" Dojo howled. They all jumped, and Jack started looking around. "Does nobody care that my tail-"

"Too much information!" yelped Kimiko, clapping her hands to her ears.

It was then that Omi noticed Jack had stopped talking; seeing as he'd usually be taunting Dojo or one of the others at this point, this was a rare occurrence during Wu hunting. Confused, he looked up at the wannabe Goth and tugged on the sleeve of the closest to him, Raimundo; the Brazilian gave Omi a questioning look, but the small monk merely motioned upwards at Jack. The robot fanatic's gaze was focused near the top of the tree next to them, head tilted back so the boys watching below couldn't see his expression. Then Jack started shifting back and forth in the air, as though trying to make sure his eyes weren't tricking him. He paused, gave a triumphant bark of laughter that sounded suspiciously like "Wu!" and shot straight up into the air.

At Jack's shout, Kimiko, Clay, and Dojo looked up at their enemy. Omi and Raimundo shot each other mystified looks, and curiously followed Jack's line of movement to what seemed to be his destination. Suddenly Raimundo noticed something glinting in the tree; the one Jack was currently headed for.

It hit him like a sack of bricks.

"SHEN-GONG-WU!" he yelled, pointing. Not waiting to see his friends' reactions, though he heard Omi give a grunt of surprise, he gathered his element around him in powerful, howling gusts, and bellowed, "Wudai Star WIND!" Immediately, he shot upwards, Spicer and the prize rapidly zooming into focus; he didn't notice the leaves and branches off to the side rustling.

Once he was within reach, his hand shot out to grab the new Wu – a ruby surrounded by orange rays, suspended by a gold chain – and he saw two other hands touch it at the same time, causing it to glow bright gold. One belonged to Jack Spicer, pale and covered by a fingerless black glove; the other was slim, feminine, and tanned, and Raimundo knew it well enough to not have to look at its owner.

Wuya's green eyes, glittering in her finely crafted face, looked at her two competitors; the expression she wore was unreadable. Jack, on the other hand, was clearly miffed; he had wanted to be able to take the Pendant of Light and go without competition.

"Jack, Wuya," growled Raimundo, glaring at both of them, "I challenge you to a Xiaolin Trio!"

"Fine," said the Heylin witch calmly, though her eyes had narrowed. She held out a shimmering black cloth. "I wager the Shroud of Shadows."

"I wager the Third-Arm Sash," said Raimundo, the blue, tasseled sash dangling from his hand.

"And I wager...the Lotus Twister!" said Jack, digging through his pockets and pulling out the Shen-Gong-Wu.

Wuya and Raimundo both looked at him, genuinely surprised. "How'd you get that?" asked Wuya just as Raimundo was opening his mouth.

Jack only shrugged. In a guarded tone, he said, "I'm an Evil Genius, aren't I?"

"That could be argued," said Wuya scornfully. Jack scowled at her.

"Hey, hey, hey! Keep your disses to yourself, you old hag! And where's Chase? Still bowing to him?"

Jack smirked when Wuya bristled.

"That's none of your concern!" she spat.

Really having no place in the exchange, Raimundo watched the two with mixed exasperation and amusement. He glanced down briefly, and saw that his friends were watching; Kimiko, Clay, and Dojo were blankly expressionless, though their eyes were wide, and it seemed Omi, considering his look of disgust, couldn't believe the two were arguing at a time like this.

Then Raimundo found himself repressing a shudder. The breeze had picked up mysteriously, and Raimundo sensed it was trying to tell him something, just as it had all morning. Frustration began to build up as he tried and failed to decode its message.

"What is it?" he hissed, Jack and Wuya bickering too loudly with each other to hear him.

Suddenly Raimundo lost himself; he was conscious, he knew that, and still in the Yosemite national park...but he was somewhere different. He suddenly had the impression of hard muscles beneath a tawny, faintly tiger-striped coat and blazing green eyes, along with a different presence that seemed to be hidden by the first-

And he was back, panting slightly, eyes wide as they looked around. He raised one shaking hand to his head, just as he realized that he could still sense the...whatever it was...its presence lingering in the air; with a tiny jolt of panic, he realized that he could feel the eyes burning into him. Raimundo looked around unobtrusively, but saw nothing. Yet the presence wouldn't go away.

It was familiar...where had he sensed this presence before...?

The only thing that came to mind was a mangled steel cage. Yowls reverberated in his memories, and he suppressed another shudder. What did that have to do with this? But it continued to prod at him, growing more persistent with each passing moment.

A bark of mocking laughter broke his concentration. Suddenly he realized that Wuya and Jack were still arguing, and saw them shooting daggers at each another. It looked as though Jack had just finished handing out a retort of some kind, and Wuya was bristling.

"Anyway, why do you care?" snarled the witch. A knowing smirk teased at the corners of her mouth. "Jealous?"

"No!" snapped Jack in an equally vicious tone. But judging from the brief glimmer in his red eyes, Raimundo couldn't help but think that Wuya was somewhat right. Jack seemed to pull himself together and continued to glare at his former partner. "I refuse to believe that he let you come alone," the redhead insisted, eyes glittering with triumph.

"I didn't," said a voice from the direction Wuya had come.

Raimundo and Wuya both twisted their heads to look at the newcomer. Chase was balancing with ease on a slim branch, looking at them each uncaringly, and Raimundo felt a bristle of anger.

Far below on the ground, the other three monks and Dojo watched everything. Seeing his old foe, Omi's face contorted into a scowl, a low growl emanating from his throat as his hands curled into threatening fists, and Kimiko was forced to place a restraining hand on the smallest monk's shoulder.

"So what's your challenge, Raimundo?" asked Wuya, turning her green gaze to the Wind Dragon.

Sending Chase one last look of loathing, Raimundo turned to his opponents, thankful of something to draw his mind from the uncomfortable prickle the strangely familiar presence was giving him. After a moment's thought, he said, "The game is Tree Climbing. First to the top of this tree gets the Pendant of Light."

"Agreed," said Wuya at once, her eyes flashing with inner anticipation.

Jack hesitated, and then sighed, reluctantly, "Fine."

"Then let's go!" said Raimundo.

Three voices mingled together in a familiar cry: "XIAOLIN SHOWDOWN!"

* * *

"What do you think?" A series of growls and low snarling answered.

Young's tiger crept up from behind the two he'd been sent after. The golden eyes narrowed, and he refrained from turning into his warrior form. He still couldn't see them...

"And...what about him?"

The tiger's eyes widened considerably when two pairs of eyes turned to face him; they'd known he'd been following all along...

The green eyes seemed to grin. Their owner growled again.

The tiger didn't even have time to cry out before the two lunged.

* * *

As expected, the scenery began to change; the words hadn't even finished echoing through the forest when everything began to rumble. The sky overhead was darkened when thunderclouds rolled in with no need of explanation. Suddenly three trees shifted into a row close to each other, the Pendant of Light towards the top, where they converged, and the others moved into a circle around the three; their tops began to twine together, and suddenly the only light came from the pendant high above. Omi, Kimiko, Clay, and Dojo, along with Chase found themselves upon a branch that seemed more like a thick, sturdy board. As usual, the four dragons had switched into their blue armor.

At the base of the three trees stood the competitors: Jack on the left, Raimundo in the middle, and Wuya on the right. Each of them were brandishing their wagered Wu, and staring up at the imposing trees with raw determination.

"GONG-YI TAMPAI!" they roared in unison.

"Lotus Twister!" shouted Jack's voice. Caught unawares, Raimundo felt a fist connect with his cheek, and he staggered a little. Jack had lashed out with both limbs, but Wuya seemed to have been anticipating such an attack and had leapt away, up into her tree. Without hesitation, she started scrambling up the conveniently placed branches. Thus far she was in first, Jack scrambling after, and Raimundo had yet to start.

"C'mon, Rai!" cried Kimiko from her spectator position, her heart pounding with excitement and worry. Clay, Omi, and Dojo began lending their voices of support as well.

Gritting his teeth, Raimundo leapt into the tree, scrambling through the branches as best he could. It wasn't as simple as it'd first looked: the branches swayed every now and then, and some slid in and out the tree periodically. But he'd managed to catch up to Wuya, and Jack was using the Lotus Twister to surprisingly great effect; his long, rubbery limbs were reaching upwards to higher branches and hauling him up in half the time.

"Heads up!" Dojo yelled suddenly, just as rumbling came from above; looking up, Raimundo saw huge logs tumbling down, as though to knock away anyone far enough from the trunk.

He immediately pressed himself against the huge tree, feeling the air being disturbed as the logs zoomed by. Chancing a glance, he saw Wuya had mimicked him, her back shoved against the bark and her limbs spread-eagled, and Jack had managed to retreat his arms just in time. As the last one passed, however, he lost footing and fell, landing on a branch almost the same level as Raimundo and Wuya.

Jack blinked at them for a split second, and then scowled. "Lotus Twister!"

This time Raimundo was ready, and dodged the incoming fist, shouting "Third-Arm Sash!" to grab a higher branch and pull himself to it. Wuya, still a little shaken, almost didn't dodge it in time.

The two glared at each other, and then Wuya cried, "Shroud of Shadows!" The black cloth swirling around her, Wuya vanished, and judging from the creaks coming from her tree, began climbing again.

Raimundo clambered up the tree after her, using the Third-Arm Sash to speed things along. He had no idea how far along Wuya was.

There was another rumbling, and Raimundo scrambled onto a higher branch and pressed himself closer to the tree. More branches and logs cascaded past; glancing to the side, he saw Jack narrowly dodge a stray log, his eyes wide.

As soon as it calmed again, the green-eyed boy scrambled up the tree quickly; he felt strangely calm.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Brazilian saw Jack clamber up to the blue-armored boy's current level and aim another blow at him. Leaping up and gripping the branch just above his head just in time, Raimundo kicked out at the hand that had reached for him. Jack yelped loudly, drew back his limb, and began sucking on his bruised knuckles, sending a spiteful glare at the Dragon of Wind, whose smirk was hidden by the standard mask from the armor. Raimundo's friends cheered loudly, praising his nice aim on the kick.

Then a few snapped twigs fell and hit Raimundo on the head. Looking up, Raimundo realized that Wuya had kept moving. Scowling to himself, the boy began scrambling. The Pendant of light was not far now...

From above, the two boys thought they heard a stifled gasp, accompanied by a scrabbling noise. Had Wuya slipped? The thought that she was at least detained for the moment gave a boost to the other two competitors' confidence.

In truth, she had. A misplaced step had her clinging to her current branch for dear life. Struggling not to cry out, she gritted her teeth and began to haul herself onto safety, her nails digging into the wood.

Meanwhile, Raimundo was having further difficulties. The Sash had certainly sped things along, but now he found that whenever he used it, something tugged him back. He glanced down, and saw Jack scrambling up from behind. Suddenly, he needed no further proof.

"What's the matter, Raimundo?" Jack yelled up at him. "Getting snagged?"

Raimundo scowled down at him, the wheels in his head turning swiftly as he tried to think up a way to rid himself of this pest, and suddenly remembered something Jack had said some time ago:

"_Man, if I get tied up in a knot over this, I'm gonna sue!"_

Illumination arrived with a soft pinging noise.

Only hesitating a moment, Raimundo launched himself from the branch, vaguely aware of his friends' stunned gasps of horror. But just as he'd suspected, Jack's limbs had given chase.

"Third-Arm Sash!" he yelled; the Sash caught hold of one of the branches and he swung smoothly upwards with a speed he'd only managed in flight. Surprised, Jack tried to nab him, thinking the Brazilian was using some abnormal tactic to get far ahead, but Raimundo began bouncing among the tree limbs like a released pinball, neatly dodging Jack's arms and leaping from the branches with concise precision. It was like trying to catch smoke with a dry fishing net.

Frustrated, Jack tried to pull back his arms so that he could just continue on climbing towards the Pendant, but there was a strange tug. He tried again, but nothing happened. Finally, he looked at his arms and realized what Raimundo had done.

The blue-armored boy was standing triumphantly above what appeared to be a badly constructed spider web; Jack's arms had been wrapped around the branches and each other in a hopeless tangle, and all Jack could do was stare open-mouthed with injustice burning in his eyes.

"That's not fair!" he screeched in frustration. Raimundo only shrugged, and began clambering up the branches with smooth agility, Jack's indignant shouts growing fainter, unlike his friends' cheers.

As Raimundo climbed, he became aware of an eerie silence. Nothing seemed to reach this high up; all that existed up here was the creaking of the limbs underneath his weight, and the Shen-Gong-Wu just ahead, glowing brightly like a real sun. With its brilliant rays, the darkness around and below seemed all the more dark, and Raimundo felt like the branches up here were bathed in spotlight.

Then he realized that the creaking wasn't coming from just him. Whether it was above or below, he wasn't certain, but another's weight was definitely being put on the branches.

"Wuya...," he breathed, eyes narrowed. As he continued climbing, his eyes slowly scanned the tree next to him. The Pendant was still a good distance away, but he could get there in no time if he hurried...

Suddenly, a small but thick branch came whizzing out of thin air, on the same level he was. Startled, Raimundo only just managed to dodge it; he heard it zoom by and vanish into the surrounding trees. He scowled at the seemingly empty space, thinking...

Praying with all his might that this was a good idea, he yelled, "Third-Arm Sash!"

The blue sash zoomed forward, and was suddenly caught by an invisible hand. Raimundo smiled grimly.

_Gotcha._

"Wudai Star WIND!" he bellowed, balling his hands into fists and punching them forward; miniature twin tornadoes hurled themselves towards the invisible enemy. Raimundo heard Wuya cry out, and then saw her falling, the Shroud of Shadows whipping uselessly through the air in her fist.

Looking down at her for only a moment, Raimundo turned back and leapt up the remaining distance. Eyes glowing when he reached the top, he reached out and held the Pendant aloft by its chain, staring around and down with triumph.

And hidden within the circle of trees surrounding, two pairs of eyes gleamed with expressions unreadable to all but themselves.

* * *

Through it all, someone else was watching the proceedings. His eyes glowed approvingly, though no one, not even himself, could see it.

He shivered, longing for tangibility of his own, but he'd made his choice, and now he was paying the price.

But it was worth it; what was done was done, and for the good of everything that wished to live. Surely what he suffered now was very small compared to what would've happened had he not gone through with it?

...The storm was coming, however; he knew nothing could stop its approach...but something _could_ give it a nasty shock when it arrived...

And, now, he felt he'd found the answer to a small problem.

* * *

Light flashed blindingly; the Showdown was over. Suddenly, Raimundo was standing back on the ground near the edge of the Yosemite National Park with his friends, the Pendant of Light and Lotus Twister in his hands while the Shroud of Shadows was draped over his arm. A disgruntled Jack Spicer sat cross-legged on the ground several feet away, arms crossed and his face pulled into a curious pout. Wuya stood next to him, scowling at Raimundo. They were all on a grassy stretch of land, the sequoias rising upwards in stoical dignity.

Suddenly, the other Dragons exploded into cheers as they thumped Raimundo on the back and praised his performance. Their voices were so jumbled together that Raimundo couldn't exactly understand what they were saying, but he got the gist of it.

Finally, Jack stood up, the scowl firmly implanted upon his face.

"That was so not fair!" he howled, opening his helipack and zooming up in the air to go home. The Jackbots, unusually undamaged, followed in obedient silence. "That was so totally NOT FAIR."

Wuya listened to Jack's exclamations with narrowed eyes, and realized Chase was standing behind her. She gave him a glance, and then turned her back on him, arms crossed. "Don't say it."

"Say what?" said Chase; he looked a little amused.

"Nothing," she grumbled.

As Dojo began to grow into traveling size, Omi remarked brightly, "Raimundo; your performance in the Showdown was most ingenious! It was very cold to watch!"

"Cool," Raimundo corrected him.

"That too!" said Omi, unfazed; Raimundo only rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Seriously, Raimundo," said Clay, "that was some pretty quick thinking back with Jack and Wuya." Raimundo felt his breath get knocked out of him as one of Clay's strong hands patted him jauntily on the back.

"Yeah, Rai," said Kimiko. "You were great out there!"

He noticed the shine in her sapphire eyes, and felt the familiar swarm of butterflies begin to flutter in a tornado of wings in his stomach. Swallowing inconspicuously in a vain effort to calm them, Raimundo turned his emerald eyes on all of his friends in turn, feeling very light from their praise.

"Thanks guys," he said gratefully.

"Well, you deserve it," said Kimiko resolutely. The Brazilian tried not to blush.

"And the Pendant of Light is a most wondrous Shen-Gong-Wu, don't you think?" said Omi, admiring the newly acquired Wu.

Raimundo smiled his agreement, holding the pendant up to see it better. The sun design glowed like true rays, and the ruby burned with astounding brilliance when it caught the sun just right.

He was taken totally unawares when something else was impressed upon him so forcefully that he couldn't remember where he was: a falcon's cry rang in his ears as wings flashed by his vision, to be replaced by a long, pure white double-edged blade as ocean waves rolled along the top, mountains set square in the middle of the water, and high above a sun burned brightly as clouds swirled around it-

"_...__**Haruki**__? That meddlesome package of plumage...! What is __**he**__ doing here?"_

"_He must've finally found what he was looking for..."_

"_The thrice accursed fool... He should have ceased and desisted the last time we met. "_

"_Well, if he's found what we think he's found, you can't really blame him-" A pause. "...What? What's wrong?"_

"_...I...think...that boy can hear us."_

"RAI!"

Someone was slapping his face, and Raimundo realized he was on the ground. He opened his eyes when the girl's voice penetrated his ears, and found himself staring into a gentle blue sky. Omi was on top of him, hand raised to slap him again, as Kimiko knelt on his right with wide, worried eyes, and on the other side, Clay was down on one-knee and fanning Raimundo with his hat.

Seeing he was awake, they each sighed with relief. Then Omi gave him a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Blinking, Raimundo gently shoved Omi away and sat up, Clay lending a hand to steady him. Giving his head a shake, Raimundo said, "I'm fine; it was nothing."

"Nothing?" echoed Clay, dumbfounded, as he planted his hat back on his golden head. "You just collapsed for no reason!"

"What happened, Rai?" asked Kimiko; her eyes were probing his for answers, the blue orbs concerned.

Raimundo found himself desperately wanting to tell her, but some part of his mind returned to its senses and held him back. Blinking as he gave himself a small mental shake, the boy gave his friends a reassuring grin.

"It was nothing," he repeated, trying to look as convincing as possible. "It was just..." He blinked, and thought about it; how was he supposed to explain what just happened? He was still utterly confused as it was. "...I was tired," he finished, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

Omi, Kimiko, and Clay were looking at him like a doctor looks at someone with a particularly bad cold, but said nothing more and helped their friend to his feet. When they clambered on Dojo, all four of them were trying to get a normal conversation going.

They were still ascending to their normal flight height when Raimundo felt himself get pushed urgently by a strange gust of wind. He blinked; was that an after-effect of his collapse? But when it shoved him again, he knew it wasn't. Suddenly he knew that Dojo needed to take evasive action.

_But to where, and what from?_ Raimundo thought wildly. He shoved it aside; there was no time for second-thoughts.

"_Dojo_!" he shouted, standing slightly and feeling a little unhinged. "Swerve!"

Dojo sounded surprised. "_What_?"

"_Swerve_!" Raimundo cried out again. "Dodge! Move up! Down! _Anything_!"

The desperate plea in the boy's voice seemed to strike something within the dragon; after glancing around nervously, he turned his head to look back worriedly at his friend. "What's happening?" he asked nervously.

Before Dojo had even finished speaking, Raimundo knew there was no time. Without thinking, he leapt past a dumbfounded Kimiko and Omi, who was sitting up very straight and, staring wide-eyed at something, looking more awake than he had all day; bounding up the rest of the way to the dragon's head, he seized Dojo's horns and pulled.

With a roar of shock, Dojo lurched slightly back and up.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE-"

Dojo's furious exclamation was cut off when fiery green blast narrowly missed them, slightly singing the dragon's scales and screaming past to fade into nothingness several feet away.

Shocked silence fell over them; even the air seemed to have hushed. The entire group's eyes were completely round. Raimundo stood, panting, looking at the spot the fireball had vanished with confused feelings that he didn't even try to sort out. He looked around, trying to steady his breathing, and his eyes met his friends'.

For a long moment, no one said anything; their tongues locked from speech, they stared mutely at each other, their numbed shock shining in their eyes. No one could really express what they were feeling. First Raimundo fainting mysteriously, now this... Just when the four thought they'd seen it all, something even stranger leapt out at them. But the prickling of the hairs on the backs of their necks and the cold feeling in their guts told them that this wasn't just strange; it was scary. But what did it all mean?

None of them could answer; none of them knew how.

It seemed like forever to Raimundo before anyone said anything. Still staring in the direction the flame had vanished, Dojo said, "How about we get out of here, shall we?"

Nodding, Raimundo swiftly reclaimed his spot between Kimiko and Clay; before he sat down, however, he leaned in close to Omi, so they wouldn't be overheard.

"You saw it while it was coming, didn't you?"

Omi jumped, and casting Raimundo a long-sided glance, nodded ashamedly.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Raimundo's tone wasn't angry.

The small monk didn't answer; he only closed his eyes and sighed quietly. Suddenly, the boy looked even more tired.

Raimundo knew not to press; instead, he clapped a hand on Omi's shoulder, gave him a smile, and sat down between Kimiko and Clay. Once he was seated, all four of them clung to Dojo's scales as the dragon flew swiftly away from the place.

"Well, _I_ certainly don't want to be around when something even stranger happens," Kimiko muttered.

Clay was wearing a grim smile. "Like the sky falling?"

"Nah," said Kimiko; "too obvious."

* * *

Down below, two figures watched the retreating Xiaolin Monks with raised eyebrows. Wuya had temporarily forgotten the anger of her defeat, and was tracing the fireball's line of travel with her eyes.

"That was a very good shot...," she murmured. She glanced at Chase, and stifled a grunt of surprise at his expression.

Chase looked shocked, or at least, as close to shocked as Chase Young could get. Anger flickered in his eyes, and he was perfectly rigid. He didn't acknowledge Wuya's comment with even a single twitch.

"I know this presence...," he hissed; Wuya wondered if he even realized she was there anymore. The golden eyes surveyed everything with suspicion. "Where is he?"

Wuya could feel the strange presence in the air, but couldn't pinpoint it. Whoever it was stalking them was doing it well... But why was Chase so unnerved?

A yowl behind them snapped the two out of their thoughts, and they whirled around to see the tiger Chase had sent out limping back to them; it was covered with still-bleeding scratches, fur had been ripped out, and it looked as though it had just fought its way through a whole field of ferocious half-starved wolves.

It collapsed at Chase's feet; its jaws opened wide, as though it were trying to say something; but it hadn't the strength to turn back into its warrior form and it couldn't speak. All that came out of its throat was a strange gurgle, and then its head slumped back, unconscious.

Chase immediately dropped down onto one knee, cradling the tiger's head in his hands. He stared at the feline for what seemed to Wuya a long time, his expression unreadable. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were narrowed.

"...What has that fool gotten himself into?"

* * *

When Dojo landed in the temple, the sun was gently setting in the west, and Raimundo's collapse had not been forgotten; his friends' concern wasn't allowing it.

"Seriously, Rai," said Kimiko as they all leapt off of Dojo and the dragon shrunk again. "Just collapsing out of the blue usually isn't a good sign-"

"I _know_, Kimiko! So would you just _drop it_ already?" he said impatiently, that morning's irritation starting to come back.

Kimiko flinched back as though he'd brandished a whip at her. "Rai, I'm just worried-"

But Raimundo had quickened his pace, and was already disappearing into the closest building.

Kimiko bit her lip, staring after Raimundo. Seeking backup of some kind, she looked at Omi, who only closed his eyes while shaking his head. Without a word, the small monk followed the other boy, his shoulders bowed with weariness.

She sighed; was no one going to help her? Couldn't someone at least tell to stop worrying? She knew that Raimundo could take care of himself... so why was she so concerned about him? Had the fainting spell really affected her that much?

_It's more than the fainting spell..._

With a growl of annoyance, she shook that thought from her head, only to have it zoom back in as though it were a yo-yo.

The girl moaned silently. _Why_ did she so want to help Raimundo, even though she knew he'd never let her? Was she just...wired that way?

Her thoughts were brought to an abrupt stop when someone spoke.

"Let him be, Kimiko," said a quiet voice in her ear. She looked around as Clay placed a hand on her shoulder; the Dragon of Earth was smiling at her with understanding in his eyes. She'd almost forgotten he was there. "He'll tell ya when he's ready."

"He might never be ready," Kimiko protested as Clay began to gently herd her to the building.

Clay seemed unfazed. "When he wants to, then," he said robustly.

"_If_ he wants to," the Dragon of Fire murmured unhappily. She heard her friend chuckle deep in his throat.

"Yeah; that too."

Kimiko gave him an irritated glance, but didn't comment. The fact that Kimiko was feeling less worried now, even though she wouldn't admit that to Clay, was a relief. He'd always had that calming effect on his friends. The tall cowboy was always a soothing presence to be around, when he wasn't angry or caught up in the heat of battle.

Feeling a little humbled by Clay's steady assurance, she asked softly, "You think so?"

"Positive," smiled Clay. He winked at her. "If no one else, Rai'll talk to you when he's ready."

Kimiko blinked, ignoring a strange sensation. "What-"

But Clay, his face becoming serious, tapped her shoulder for her to become silent, and then pointed at the person in front of them.

Omi was standing in the doorway when they reached it. He stared at the ground in wide-eyed confusion.

"...Omi?" asked Kimiko. "Something wrong?"

The Dragon of Water couldn't find the words to answer that. He ended up making a weird gesture that looked like he was trying to nod, shake his head, and shrug, all at the same time.

Clay leaned forward slightly. "What's goin' on, buddy?"

Omi sighed helplessly and indicated for them to enter. They did so, and the small monk followed.

In front of the dining room, they bumped into Raimundo, blinking at the occupants of the table. Hearing his friends' approach, he only pointed into the room.

Three strangers were sitting at the table, speaking to Master Monk Guan in low voices. The oldest of the group, a woman in her thirties, appeared to be the other two's parents. One was a boy, roughly sixteen, who was entertaining the second, a girl who looked about nine-years-old and seemed to be the boy's sister.

When the four friends entered the room, the group fell silent and the three strangers' eyes landed on the Dragons-in-training. Master Monk Guan, however, saw them and smiled welcomingly.

"Ah, here they are." He motioned to the four to come and sit at the table. Hesitantly, the small group walked over and sat down, eyeing the trio in front of them uncertainly.

No one said anything.

"...It's an honor to meet you," said the boy at last, sounding as though he thought the words were a little inadequate.

The four nodded mutely at them, and Clay tipped his hat to the woman, who smiled back.

"These three are having a little trouble at the moment," Guan began to explain, noting his pupils' expressions.

"We just need a place to stay for a little while," said the woman hurriedly, as though she feared the monks' silence meant they disapproved.

She continued to speak, but Omi barely heard. He was fixing the woman and teenage boy with an intense stare. Their faces rang a bell from somewhere in his memory...but why couldn't he place them?

Suddenly Raimundo heard Omi whisper, "They're not all here..."

Raimundo blinked at him. "What?" he hissed in an undertone.

"There was a boy last time...not a girl..." Even Omi sounded confused by the words.

Guan cleared his throat. "Do you think you should introduce yourselves?"

The boy exchanged a look with his mother, who nodded for him to go ahead, and he turned back to the friends before him.

"These are my sister Kayin and my mother Estelle. I'm Axel."

* * *

**Meh...**

**Review! Um, please!**


	8. Faces from the Past

**Disclaimer:** Listen, people, Christy Hui owns _Xiaolin Showdown_, and I doubt she's going to hand it over to some rabid fangirl/amateur fanfiction writer any time soon.

A/N: Ai-yi-yi... so many reviews! Thanks, people!

* * *

_Prophecy_

A _Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction  
Written by Calistar Heir

**Chapter Eight: Faces from the Past**

"Now I remember!" Omi cried, springing to his feet so that he was standing on his chair, looking shocked. The others jumped and looked at him in surprise. His exhaustion had not faded, but the liveliness of his eyes seemed to make up for it. "You...the two of you!"

"Who _are_ they?" asked Raimundo, looking at Omi as he unconsciously rose to his feet as well. The boy, Axel, and his mother Estelle stared at the youngest monk with quizzical eyes.

"...Omi!" said Axel at last. A grin of pleased surprise spread across his face. Estelle's eyebrows shot straight up, and a small but joyful smile flew to her lips.

"Omi?" said Kimiko, eyeing the trio as they walked around the table to the Dragon of Water. She repeated Raimundo's question. "Who are they?"

The small boy felt the corners of his mouth quirk up.

"They are old acquaintances of mine."

He looked at the three, recalling them as they were on their last meeting. Estelle looked almost exactly the same, though now her face was showing some strain, and she tied her reddish-black hair back, allowing it to flow down her back in graceful waves. Axel certainly looked different: he was much taller now, his features had lost the signs of boyhood, and his bronze hair had darkened slightly, but the blue eyes were the same.

He paused. That had brought him to the sister. He had an idea of who she was, but he couldn't be certain.

"...Who is she?" asked Omi quietly. "I do not recognize her."

"She's the baby, remember?" said Estelle.

Omi did remember: a day or two after the "incident", Estelle had given birth. He'd been forced to remain outside while she was in labor, but he'd still heard her distressed cries through the process. When he'd come back in, Axel and a heavily bandaged Brant were brothers to a baby girl, who they named Kayin.

Everyone had admitted that Kayin was a little...strange. She barely cried, wasn't very fussy, and being around the baby, you could feel a very strange presence. Master Fung had warned there could be side-effects on the baby from the "incident", but apparently he hadn't known just how much.

Omi was having a hard time putting the two together. As mysterious as she was when a baby, it seemed like almost nothing compared to now. Her long, dark-red hair was pulled into the same braid her mother had worn years ago; she was slender and a little tall for her age. But the eyes, dark and so like her eldest brother's, carried such mystery that anyone could find themselves drowning in them. Everything about her, from her eyes to the way she held herself to her very presence, seemed to say that she knew more than she could tell.

It was a little creepy.

"Hello, Omi," said Kayin; her voice was soft and quiet, and as smooth as the mirror surface of a still pond. She reached out with one hand to shake the little boy's. "I've heard a great deal about you."

Something a little like respect entered her fathomless eyes and Omi felt himself relax. The fact she showed any emotion at all was strangely relieving. He took the hand as confidently as he could.

"I can remember you when you were only a very small baby."

Kayin looked a little amused. "And I can't remember you at all," she said airily. Omi felt the shock of his first impression of Kayin slip away, and it was like he was meeting anyone else.

"And we've never met," Kimiko cut in testily.

Omi blinked and glanced at his friends. Raimundo was still a little stunned, a somewhat disgruntled Kimiko was eyeing the newcomers distrustfully, and Clay's expression was hard to read. The Dragon of Water indicated them with a small hand.

"Well, Axel already introduced them..."

"And Master Monk Guan told us about you," said Kayin. Axel's and Estelle's eyebrows shot straight up as they looked at their third family member in surprise, but they didn't comment. Her eyes traveled calmly over them in turn as she spoke their names. "Raimundo, Kimiko, and Clay, right?"

Raimundo, though shock had robbed him of his tongue, managed to nod his confirmation.

"They came to the Xiaolin Temple nine years ago," Omi continued.

Axel's eyes grew distant. "Nine years...," he murmured. "...Seems almost like yesterday."

Kayin smiled wryly. "To _you_, maybe; I was barely born."

"But, I am most confused...," said Omi, looking at the three family members. "I do not see Brant with you."

At the mention of the boy's name, Estelle and Axel drew in a sharp breath and stiffened; Kayin merely stared at the ground. There was a pause, in which the Dragons-in-training blinked at the trio, exchanged looks, and went back to staring.

Omi had begun looking from Axel to Estelle and back. "What has happened?" Raimundo saw Omi's expression become stretched with worry, pronouncing his exhaustion. "Brant is... he is alright, isn't he? He is not...is not...?"

"Dead?" finished Axel dully. "...Not as far as I know..."

"What do you-?"

"I haven't seen my brother in seven years," Axel said monotonously, running across Omi's question.

Axel's words brought Omi to an abrupt stop. For a moment he stared wide-eyed at the older boy, and then his mouth fell open in dumbstruck disbelief. Raimundo bit his tongue to prevent the concerned words from escaping.

"He snuck out sometime during the night," said Estelle quietly. "As soon as we knew he wasn't in the house or at any friends' house, we started calling around. But... we already knew that he was long gone."

Out of the corner of his eye, Raimundo watched Omi worriedly. The monk was staring at the ground, his expression stupefied.

"...Why'd he go?" That was Kimiko; glancing at her, the Dragon of Wind saw her face was occupied by sympathetic curiosity.

The sixteen-year-old shrugged mutely, staring at the ground; Estelle was avoiding the four friends' eyes.

Then Kayin said, in a voice that made her sound much wiser than her age, "Brant was unhappy. He hated how others reacted to his scars."

Everyone jumped and looked at her. Both Omi and Raimundo felt the need to argue with her, but looking into her eyes, Raimundo felt the words vanish, and Omi suddenly became tongue-tied. The conviction her dark, limitless orbs held was unarguable.

But that didn't mean her brother wouldn't try.

"How do _you_ know?" he snapped, glaring at her. Judging from Estelle's expression, this wasn't a normal occurrence. "You were only two when he left!"

Far from getting angry or offended, Kayin merely turned her dark gaze to her brother, who held it surprisingly well, except for the fact that he was starting to flinch. "I just know," she said softly; any arguments left in the room were sapped from their owners by the nine-year-old's tone.

All too soon, the group found themselves being smothered in silence. While Clay and Kimiko began shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, Raimundo continued to keep a worried eye on Omi; he looked as though he didn't know what to feel or think.

Then they were rescued by Master Monk Guan. His clear, strong voice broke the uncomfortable tension and silence in the air like a hammer hitting glass.

"Did you retrieve the new Shen-Gong-Wu?" he asked calmly, getting up and walking over to them.

Taking a moment for his brain to process this, Raimundo nodded and pulled out the Pendant of Light. Guan smiled approvingly.

"Then you are free to go and do - whatever it is you four do." The Dragons-in-training managed to grin. "But be sure to put the Pendant of Light in the vault first."

"Thank you, sir," all four murmured, Clay and Kimiko rising from their seats and joining Raimundo and Omi as they walked out the door.

"Make sure you get some sleep, Omi," called Estelle's voice. Glancing back, Raimundo saw her eyeing the Dragon of Water with concern. "You look exhausted."

Raimundo noted that Omi's eyes flickered back, and the Brazilian motioned to Estelle that he'd heard.

"She's right, y'know," said Kimiko to Raimundo in an undertone when they were just in front of the doors. "He _does_ look tired..."

He tried to pull a look of confused surprise, but Kimiko saw through it like a brand-new windowpane. "Did he say anything to you?" she asked quietly.

Shaking his head, Raimundo attempted to give her a reassuring grin. "Probably just went to bed late," he said lightly.

"Mmm..."

Kimiko gave her friend a scrutinizing look, and then picked up the pace. Not stopping, she called over her shoulder, "Are you going to put the Pendant with the other Shen-Gong-Wu?"

"Just about to," the Dragon of Wind replied.

She shot him a smile, and exited through the still-open doors, catching up to Clay. The dying sunlight, Raimundo noted, seemed to sparkle in her raven hair, making the curls' soft sheen brighter, and he watched her descend the stairs, conversing with Clay. For a moment, the Brazilian was tempted to follow her.

Omi was the last in line. As his unusually slow footsteps approached, Raimundo tore his gaze away from the retreating Kimiko, and looked at his exhausted friend. While staring at the little monk, Raimundo couldn't help but wonder why his friend was so tired; has Omi gotten any sleep at all? Looking at the Dragon of Water, the Brazilian suddenly realized that Omi was more than physically spent, he was emotionally, too. Still, he didn't question the boy as he walked forward; he doubted that Omi would've noticed, anyway. Omi had almost bumped into him before he realized that Raimundo was still standing there. He stopped, and blinked up at his Brazilian friend.

"Hello, Raimundo," said Omi, looking a little confused as to what his friend was doing there.

"Omi," the Dragon of Wind nodded. He paused, and cocked his head to the side. "Are you okay, Omi? And don't tell me 'fine', because you're not."

The monk opened his mouth angrily as though to protest, but then he hesitated, and bowed his head. "No, you are right; I am _not_ fine."

Biting his lip slightly, Raimundo couldn't hide the concern in his eyes, which covered the ripple of shock he'd received when Omi admitted to not being well. "Is it about, whatsisname... Brant? You seemed kinda shook up... Were you two close friends?"

Omi blinked at Raimundo as these questions processed, and then shook his head. "We were not very close... In all honesty, Brant did not seem much taken with me." He paused, and added, "I cannot really see how that could be, of course..."

Raimundo rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but feel relieved; the reappearance of that ego was surely a good sign? "Total mystery," Raimundo murmured.

Nodding, Omi continued. "But he put up with me when I went in to visit him and his family. In fact..." Here Omi gave a shy grin. "...I sort of admired him."

Raimundo's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. There were only three people Raimundo knew of that Omi admired: Master Fung, Master Monk Guan, and Grandmaster Dashi, all of whom were very highly accomplished Xiaolin monks and warriors. "He was that good?"

But Omi shook his head. "He was neither monk nor warrior, and I never saw his skills in combat, but...he was very brave. I...was only four at the time, but I hoped that I could become as good as him."

The dark eyes lowered, and Omi's expression became sorrowful. "I wonder what could have happened to him..."

Raimundo couldn't hide the concerned sympathy he felt for his friend. As Omi continued to remain silent, the Brazilian wondered just how upset the Dragon of Water was. Finally, Raimundo thought that a change in subject was in order. "So...are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Omi didn't raise his head, and it was a very long pause before he nodded reluctantly.

"So what's up?"

A short, hesitant pause followed this question. Omi sighed, and when the boy raised his head, the Dragon of Wind was forced to stifle a noise of shock; Omi's eyes were... _scared_. The dark orbs avoiding Raimundo, Omi took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"I...had nightmares last night."

Surprised, Raimundo tried to keep his face expressionless. "...Okay..."

"And I...have decided to tell you because you were having nightmares as well...weren't you?"

Raimundo knew there was no point in being shocked. "Yeah; go on..."

"Well...," Omi said, still not meeting Raimundo's eyes, "uh, nine years previously, Master Fung and I were on the grounds...when we found a dead bird."

The Brazilian didn't really know where this was going, but he didn't interrupt.

"That's... that's what I dreamed of all night: the bird." Omi's voice began to tremble. "Only...something was wrong. The image was as it always had been, but...I don't know...it seemed different, somehow...I - don't know how to explain. ...And then...and then it sort of – vanished; it...vanished into – black."

The other boy blinked. Omi seemed to be caught in the grip of a particularly unpleasant memory, and was shrinking away from something Raimundo could not see himself. Seeing this, Raimundo felt alarmed. Omi only looked like this when faced with Miniko, or creatures similar to Miniko...

"Everything was black. Dark and...and cold..."

Raimundo didn't know what to think; this was Omi as he'd never seen him before. The Dragon of Water seemed so...lost. He blinked again, and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Omi seemed to snap back to his senses, though the fear didn't completely leave his eyes.

"I – I just don't know what to make of it. It was just a dream, right? And it is a silly thing to be frightened of... But..."

"There's just something about it?" Raimundo ventured; Omi nodded.

The older boy remained quiet. If he was honest, he didn't have a clue as what to make of it, either. All he knew was that the Omi standing in front of him was scary; a sort of "lost in the woods all alone" type of kid Raimundo never thought he'd have to affiliate with the usually fearless, egotistical Dragon of the Water. Finally, Raimundo knelt down and gave Omi a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry too much about it, Omi. Sometimes a dream is just that: a dream. But...you can talk to me if it keeps bugging you."

It felt so weird, trying to reassure Omi. Most of the time, it was the other away around. Still, the monk didn't seem to mind; Omi didn't say anything, but his expression brightened slightly.

Raimundo grinned and straightened. "Good; now cheer up. This new you is scaring me."

The small monk gave a weak laugh, and, still grinning, Raimundo turned back to the doors and exited. Omi followed, a little livelier.

But Raimundo couldn't stop one more question. "Omi... Kayin said that Brant wasn't happy about his scars. Were they bad?"

Omi glanced at him, and he frowned as he summoned up the memory of the boy. "Yes... He had three scars, slashing across his face. When the bandages came off...they had not healed as well as the monks had hoped."

Raimundo nodded, and they didn't say any more on the subject.

* * *

Unnoticed, a crow had glided away from the temple. Now inland, his wings gave him speed normal birds didn't achieve.

The forest was the hard part; the trees weren't impossible to navigate, but sometimes the bird found himself closer to the ground than he would've liked. But he didn't want to risk running into a bird he couldn't handle and not being able to deliver his information. Besides, he needed to be close enough to the ground that he could transform into his land-based form.

Then a paw slammed down on the crow, pinning him to the ground. He shrieked and struggled, but to no avail. Twisting his head around, he saw the leg of the paw disappearing into shadows, out of which two fiery green eyes gleamed. Their owner slipped forward, revealing the large cat.

"If I were you," it said quietly, "I would stick to flying _above_ the trees."

The crow saw the cat's eyes fill with hunger as it licked its jaws, and knew he was dead.

"Sure you didn't injure it?" asked another voice. Slipping out of the darkness opposite of the cat, a tall man in a dark traveling cloak, the hood pulled up and hiding his face, stepped forward to join the cat. Noticing the hungry gleam in his companion's eyes, he added sternly, "We need him to get back to Young, Wraith. If the bird doesn't report, Chase will be bound to know something's up."

"The bird is shaken," said Wraith, eyes narrowing in annoyance, "but he should still have his ability to fly." His eyes traveled slowly back to the bird beneath his paw, and licked his lips again. "Perhaps if I could just-"

"No, Wraith," said the human bluntly.

"A tiny nibble will not hurt." Wraith lowered his head, and the bird began wriggling even more.

The man made an irritated noise in his throat, and said, "Do you remember when we first met?"

"Vividly," murmured Wraith, stopping his head's descent and longing etched in his expression.

"Remember how you were always acting all wise and telling me not to be rash?" the man continued.

Wraith shot a look at his companion. "Yes..."

"Know why I'm bringing this up?"

There were several seconds in which it looked as though Wraith was having a massive internal struggle. Then, though he didn't move his paw, the cat slowly, reluctantly, raised his head again.

"Good," said the human coolly. He noted the hungry longing in the cat's eyes, and added, "When we're done here, you can go catch something. Now can we get this over with?"

Wraith gave him an irritated glance. "Be patient," he said grumpily. Then the cat lowered his head, but instead of trying to eat the bird, Wraith rested his head on the ground next to the crow's. The crow began wriggling.

"Stop that," Wraith commanded. The bird stopped. "Now, look at me..."

The human watched the proceedings. As the bird seemed to calm, for a long moment the two just stared at each other. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, watching, but eventually Wraith raised his head, eyes expressionless.

"Interesting...," he murmured. "Very interesting..."

"What is?" the human ventured, unable to hide a gleam of excitement.

"I will tell you soon enough," said the cat calmly. He looked down at the bird beneath his paw. "Now, we just need to take care of this one..."

* * *

The crow was flying, though for what purpose he did not know. He was completely confused; there was something he needed to tell his master... but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what. But he couldn't just show up at Chase Young's doorstep without any news.

With a shake of his head, the bird continued flying. Maybe it would come back to him as he went...

In the trees below, two figures watched in satisfaction, and vanished into the forestry.

* * *

Night had descended quietly. It was a kind of night the monks weren't fully used to, but at least now they were in the company of friends.

They weren't asleep yet, however. Ready for bed as they were, the group was situated in a circle on the floor, candles lit. Their whispered conversation was currently revolving around the attack they had just barely avoided that afternoon.

"Who could it be?" asked Kimiko, glancing around her friends. "I mean, no one we know would've done that, no matter how evil they are... Maybe Jack..."

"But he was long gone by the time we were in the air," Clay pointed out. "There were only two people it could've been."

"Chase and Wuya," said Raimundo quietly. The group nodded.

"But Wuya has been robbed of her powers," said Omi, the dark circles under his eyes all the darker in the candlelight.

Kimiko nodded. "What about Chase?"

"I...do not think he would do such an act," Omi said slowly with a guarded expression. "It...is not exactly his way..."

"How do you know?" asked Kimiko; her eyebrows had shot up.

"I don't; he just doesn't seem the kind to attack when a back is turned."

"I dunno...," said Raimundo darkly. "In my opinion, he's a little too crafty for his own good."

"Sneaky he may be," Omi agreed, "but I doubt he would attack Dojo unawares." Noticing the looks his friends were giving him, his expression became defensive. "I just do not wish us to be part of a loose duck pursuit!"

The other three stared at him blankly.

"...Uh, I think he means 'wild goose chase'," Raimundo explained to the others, and Clay and Kimiko uttered a soft "Ohh..."

"There is supposed to be a difference?" Omi grumbled. There were a few stifled giggles to this, but they stopped immediately when Omi glared bad-temperedly at each of them.

"Anyway," said Clay, "have any of us actually _seen_ Chase Young shoot fire bolts?"

There was a pause, and then a collection of "Not really"s and "No..."s.

"But he might be able to," Kimiko piped up.

Clay shrugged. "Maybe; but we can't go pointing fingers when we haven't any proof."

The quartet exchanged looks, thinking.

"...Maybe Hannibal Bean was somewhere," suggested Raimundo.

"Maybe," said Kimiko with a nod.

"And maybe it's too late at night for us to speculate," said Clay.

"Agreed, Clay," said Omi, failing to stifle a huge yawn. "As usual, you are most wise. Perhaps I'll...just..."

He never finished the sentence, for he suddenly fell over, snoring; he was asleep before his head hit the ground.

The other three looked at their fourth companion, and Kimiko sighed. "I guess we're gonna have to get him into his bed?" It was very obvious that she just wanted to curl up under the covers of her cot and go to sleep.

"You go to bed, Kim," said Raimundo gently. "I'll take care of him."

Kimiko was giving him a very strange look, one that was unreadable by candlelight. Her stare was long and steady, but finally she shrugged and, yawning, got up and walked over to her own cot, saying, "'Night, guys."

"Goodnight, Kimiko," the two boys still awake chorused. Soon they heard her shifting under her covers, and within moments, judging by her steady breathing, she was fast asleep.

With a sigh, Raimundo blew out the candles, and the only light came from the moonlight streaming through the window, casting a pool of silver light on the floor. Then he positioned his hand to lift Omi, and suddenly Clay knelt down on Omi's other side.

"I'll help," said Clay quietly.

Raimundo flashed him a grateful glance, and between the two of them, they lifted Omi and carried him over to his cot.

"Sleeps like a log, doesn't he?" Raimundo commented. Clay grinned.

They placed the young monk on his cot, and began pulling the covers over him. As they did this, Raimundo whispered to Clay, "...Do you really think it could be Hannibal Bean?"

Clay didn't answer right away. He shot Raimundo a glance, but only pulled the covers the rest of the way over Omi. This task done, Clay straightened, and looked at Raimundo seriously. "It could be, but I doubt it."

Raimundo felt his eyebrows rise. "Really?"

"Well," said Clay, walking away from the cot and motioning to Raimundo to do the same, "that fire bolt was green, wasn't it? And what's the color of the fire Bean uses?"

For a moment Raimundo hesitated, remembering. "Purple," he said at last.

"Exactly," said Clay.

"But...," Raimundo whispered, searching for an answer, "...who could it be?"

"Is there anything you can remember meeting that can shoot green fire?" asked Clay seriously.

Raimundo only stared at him, wondering... Suddenly a brief memory flashed in his mind, and he inhaled sharply. _...But how?_

"Yes," said Raimundo firmly. Clay's surprise wasn't hidden, and Raimundo gripped the cowboy's arm and dragged him over to the doorway. "Look; I'm going to tell you something I haven't told anyone else, and I'd really like for us to keep this a secret, okay?"

Clay looked alarmed, but he nodded all the same.

"Okay; back when I was five, I ran away to join my sister at the circus. Don't ask why," he added swiftly when Clay opened his mouth. "Anyway, one day this..._thing_ came and attacked us, and it shot green fire."

An unreadable expression crossed Clay's face. He leaned in slightly, and Raimundo almost had to take a step back. The normally calm Clay was suddenly looking unhinged. "Thing? What did it look like?" he asked quickly, intently.

"W-well," Raimundo stuttered, "it was big, kinda looked like a mountain lion, faint tiger stripes..."

"And green eyes like fire?"

Raimundo stared, dumbstruck. "How...?"

"I was attacked by the thing, too," said Clay grimly. "When I was six. It was dark...but I could see the eyes."

"They glow," Raimundo murmured, shocked by Clay's revelation.

Clay nodded.

"...But...do you think...it could've been the one who...?"

He trailed off, searching Clay's face. The cowboy's expression was half lit by moonlight, and it looked serious.

"Well, it's a suspect," said Clay.

Raimundo knew that it was the best answer he could expect, but he still felt a little disappointed. He was forced back into the conversation by Clay's next question.

"Why'd you come to me with this, Rai?"

Blinking, Raimundo looked up at the cowboy's wondering expression, curious. Why had he told Clay? He suddenly realized that he and the cowboy had never been the closest of the four, but here he was, telling a secret he'd told neither Kimiko, Omi, or even Master Fung or Master Monk Guan. In fact, he'd been one of Clay's fiercest tormentors in the early days, which, upon reflection, wasn't the brightest idea to be. (An incident involving Clay's hat and several jugs of milk briefly came to mind.)

But then again, he'd known Clay the longest. He'd been the first of the three Raimundo met, and he was a loyal friend. Throughout their adventures, he'd shown an uncommon wisdom in bad situations, had the patience of a saint, particularly on Raimundo's part, and, solid as a rock, he'd always been there to dish out some calming words. Steadfast and steady, Raimundo realized that Clay was the natural choice for him to come to a problem with, because if the answer wasn't all that encouraging, at least it was honest.

"Because you're like that, Clay," Raimundo said finally with a shrug. He doubted he could ever say all the factors. But, a little embarrassedly, he added, "You're like a brother. And you wouldn't spill a secret."

Clay blinked at his friend, surprised, but smiled gratefully all the same.

"Besides, sometimes you seem so wise..."

"I'm not wise, Rai," said Clay seriously. Raimundo blinked at the expression on his friend's face. "I just say what I feel. ...Daddy Bailey was – and is – a firm believer in honesty, and he taught it to me to a 'T'. I - guess that's why he had such a hard time praising..."

He trailed off incoherently, eyes growing a little distant. But the Brazilian didn't need to hear the last word.

"Now how 'bout we go to bed?" said Raimundo brusquely, turning away. He stretched his arms tiredly. "I know _I_ could use a few Zs..."

The cowboy chuckled. "Ditto."

On the other side of the room, Raimundo heard Clay getting into bed as the Brazilian got into his own cot. For...he wasn't sure how long, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling as he thought. But soon his eyelids began to droop...

* * *

"_Don't be scared, Raimundo..."_

"_Scared? Scared of what?"_

"_...Just don't be..."_

Raimundo peered through the darkness with no avail. Whether he was asleep or not wasn't certain to him; nothing was. He put his hand mere centimeters from his face, and saw nothing. With a sigh, he let it drop by his side.

Suddenly light flew in as though someone had flicked a light switch. But...all he saw was white. Then the light seemed to shift, and it turned into a clear orb, surrounding him, as small pricks of light floated with him; if he looked hard enough, he thought he could see images in the ones closest to him, but it was hard to tell if he was just imagining things. They seemed endless, and yet contained. He wondered vaguely what they were...

Then the flutter of feathered wings once again graced his ears, and he felt a weight land on his shoulder. Raimundo wanted to turn and see what it was, but his head refused to move. He could only stare ahead.

"...Hello, Raimundo."

The voice was male, strong, but gentle; it sounded like the falcon he'd dreamed of earlier. Raimundo was aware of being in a presence stronger than his own.

"...Er, hi," he said uncertainly, wondering who it was he was speaking to. He suddenly realized that his mouth hadn't moved; he was thinking as though he were speaking. "Where are we?"

"Haven't you guessed?" said the voice.

Raimundo paused, looking around a little more. Then he said, "...My memories?"

"Right you are."

"Huh...," said Raimundo, eyes shifting to look at the orbs. "I never thought it would look like this."

"I suppose it doesn't; but this is a dream, remember?"

"Is that supposed to be a pun?"

The voice chuckled, and said, "No, but if you took it as one, I apologize."

"Accepted," said Raimundo. He paused, and then asked, "What are you doing here?"

There was a small, hesitant pause, and the voice said, "I need your help."

"What kind of help?" Raimundo couldn't help but feel suspicious.

"I must apologize for this; it wasn't originally intended, I can promise you that."

"What kind of help?" Raimundo repeated, feeling uneasy.

"Relax; I'm not of the Heylin forces, as you surely suspect."

"Why should I believe you?"

The voice paused again, and said, "That's wise of you, Raimundo; or perhaps just common sense...maybe both. But I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me."

"_Why_?"

"Because I'm entrusting you with something so much more important than a secret...whether you like it or not."

Raimundo drew up short at these words, feeling a little confused and stunned. "You are?"

"Yes; and I would have preferred to have your consent first, but I sense that such hopes are foolish now..."

The Brazilian felt himself beginning to panic. "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing you won't survive; please, Raimundo...I truly need your help, and I'm afraid that neither of us really have a choice in whether this happens or not. It just needs to be done, and I assure you, it's for the good of everything upon this planet."

Raimundo couldn't think of what to say to this. He stood in silence.

"I promise you; I am not Heylin."

He heard wings again, and was forced to draw in a gasp of shock as something struck his chest with an explosion of prism light-

* * *

Raimundo awoke with a yelp, sitting straight up in bed. He sat there, panting heavily, and looked around, drawing in his surroundings. The boy was very glad to see he was once again in his room, his friends' breathing and snores soothing his troubled mind.

"...Just a dream...," he murmured.

'...Was it?'

The Dragon of Wind nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice - the same one that had been in his dream. But instead of hearing through his ears... he seemed to be _thinking_ it.

'Ah, it worked. I'd hoped it would...'

"Who are you?" Raimundo hissed, looking around.

'Well, I can't tell you _now_; you're too shaken.'

"Well of course I'm shaken!" Raimundo snarled under his breath. "I'm talking to a voice in my head!"

'Raimundo, relax. This is at the inconvenience of both of us, I assure you. And if you don't calm down, you'll wake the others.'

The boy drew up short, and looked around. His gaze found Omi first, and he was relieved to see the little boy sound asleep, apparently unbothered by nightmares. Clay's unmistakable snores were a dead giveaway that the cowboy was asleep, and Raimundo's green eyes soon found Kimiko.

She was on her side, sound asleep, and one arm out of the covers. The moonlight streamed through the window, and caused her raven hair to shine. It touched her soft features and eyelashes, causing her pale skin to have a moon-like glow itself.

Raimundo looked away, feeling his face turn a bright shade of scarlet, as he imagined what Kimiko would say if she found out he'd been staring at her as she slept, or worse, how he saw her...

He shook his head; it was late, he was tired, and seriously needed some sleep. The boy flopped back onto his pillow, shifting around for a more comfortable position, and began steadying his breathing.

'Sleep well,' Raimundo heard the voice say before he drifted off.

* * *

Clay was always an early riser; it was a well-known fact. He slept heavily, not to mention noisily, but he was always awake at dawn, ready for the upcoming day.

As usual, he yawned and stretched, trying to wake up his muscles, and looked blearily around the room. Kimiko had nearly disappeared entirely beneath her covers, only the top of her head and the steady rise and fall of the bulge beneath the blankets suggesting she was still there. Omi lay sprawled on his own cot, blankets up to his chin but his arms resting around his head; his mouth opened hugely each time he snored. Raimundo, however, had kicked his blankets off entirely so that they lay in a small heap at the bottom of the cot, revealing Ninja Fred in the crook of his arm while the other limb covered his eyes.

The cowboy chuckled softly to himself, and yawned again as he got up to shuffle to the bathroom. Once out in the hall, however, he stopped, blinking.

Quizzical, he turned around slowly, so that he faced outside. Cautiously, he crept over to the door and looked out, feeling confused. His eyes shifted around the courtyard, his senses blaring in his head that something was amiss. He could've sworn he saw a shadow slip over to the vault...

He blinked, and shook his head. He just wasn't completely awake yet. The cowboy turned and continued his way to the bathroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Still, he couldn't relieve himself of the nagging feeling at the back of his mind...

* * *

He slipped through the temple grounds, using the long shadows cast by the early morning light. When the Dragon of Earth almost spotted him, he'd nearly stopped breathing, but had been able to relax when the cowboy left. Dark eyes narrowed; he'd have to watch out for that one...too observant for his and Wraith's cause...

Young's (former) Apprentice hurried past the buildings, eyes shifting for any sign of being caught. He smiled humorlessly to himself at the name. It had been a long time since he'd been in Chase Young's apprenticeship. Still, Wraith liked to call him that now and again. Old habits were hard to break out of, he supposed.

The young man cut a hard-to-spot figure without his traveling cloak. It was easier, he reflected, to dodge between buildings and trees without the fluttering cloth behind him, free of the worry that he might get snagged. As such, excluding the cowboy, Young's Apprentice made it to the vault without incident.

The pillar rose out of the ground as soon as the lever had been pulled. He walked along the cabinets, searching for the newest occupant. As he passed it, the man longingly eyed the Fountain of Hui; Wraith said they'd need it later, for reasons he had not fully explained yet. But the Fountain was too large to run with as swiftly as he'd like; he would just have to come back someday and take it then...

Soon enough, he found the cabinet of his choice. He pushed the block in, and the box slid out quietly. Inside, the necklace lay there, the brilliant ruby glowing, even without any light.

Reaching out his hand, he hesitated, looking around, and then closing his eyes as he took a few deep breaths, readying himself. His eyes reopened, and with lightning-quick reflexes, he seized the Pendant of Light and ran with inhuman speed up the staircase and out of the vault, while the alarm shattered the morning air.

* * *

"...So they're coming?"

The man grinned at Wraith. "Like moths to a flame."

"You're sure you didn't lose them?" asked Wraith.

"Yes," said Chase Young's former apprentice. "I was practically dangling the Pendant in front of that dragon's nose." He noted Wraith's expression, and sighed. "Well, okay, I wasn't _that_ close. But in any case it was a little closer than I would have liked."

Wraith nodded approvingly, eyes narrowing as he watched the green dragon spiral in and land. "Good; hopefully, we'll end this before it starts."

* * *

"I can't believe we're back the old Temple!" cried Dojo gleefully from atop Clay's hat.

It was amazing how beautiful a sight the Xiaolin Temple was to the four. For the longest time, Kimiko, Clay, and Raimundo had been aching for their own homes while training at the place, and with a jolt, all four realized that over the past few days, they'd been homesick for the building. Omi was understandable; he'd grown up in the place, so it had been home to him, but the other three suddenly found out that they'd grown just as fond of the building as the small boy had.

But now wasn't the time.

"Focus, Dojo," said Kimiko warningly. "We're here to find a Wu thief."

"Sure, sure," said Dojo distractedly, looking around and motioning vaguely with a claw. "They're in the woods somewhere."

Omi stared at him. "_Somewhere_?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah..." Suddenly Dojo seemed more embarrassed than distracted. "I kinda lost it..."

Four identical groans sounded at the edge of the trees. "Typical," grumbled Kimiko. Dojo shot her a glare.

"Cool it, guys," said Raimundo, putting his hands up. "Let's just split up; we know these trees pretty well, so there's less chance of getting lost."

"And we are trained Wudai Warriors," Omi couldn't help adding.

The four monks gave each other long, measured looks, and then nodded, and headed in different directions into the trees.

As Raimundo went his own way, he began to realize that it was almost as if the other three had vanished. Suddenly, he felt very much alone.

'...Er, I don't think we should go this way...'

Raimundo stopped dead in his tracks and groaned under his breath. _Oh no..._

'Hey!' said the voice indignantly. 'You think I'm any happier with the predicament I'm in?'

The Brazilian drew up short. _You...can hear my thoughts?_

'Well of course I can!' the voice sighed. 'I'm, for the lack of a better phrase, in your head.'

As soon as the words were "spoken", Raimundo realized that it did make sense... _Listen, I'm a little uncomfortable with this..._

'Because you think I'm of the same motives as Wuya and Hannibal Bean, right?'

_Well...yes._

'Not unexpected,' said the voice crisply. 'After what you've been through, it would've been foolish of you not to suspect it. But I'm not; I told you that, and I still tell you that. I am not Heylin, I swear it.'

_Then why are you in my head?_ Raimundo asked testily.

'...Because I'm in a very bad predicament. I told you this last night. If things had gone better, we wouldn't be like this.'

Raimundo didn't respond. Suspicion burned strongly, but he could feel it becoming overpowered by an unexplainable sympathy. So for the moment, he decided to give - whoever it was – the benefit of the doubt.

_...Are you the falcon from my dream the other night?_

'Yes,' said the voice. 'That's my form.'

Though that didn't mean much on whose side he was on, Raimundo found comfort in being able to see a form of some kind.

_So why don't you think we should go this way...falcon?_

'Ah,' said the falcon. 'Well, that's the way the Wu thief went-'

_Really? Then good!_ Without a moment's hesitation, Raimundo continued the way he was going.

'No, really. That's not a good idea...'

_You don't want me to find the Pendant of Light?_

'Of course I do!' the falcon exclaimed. 'It's just, the fellow who took it is-'

_Look,_ Raimundo began, _I'm out here 'cause I need to find the Pendant of Light; that's the way it went, so that's the way I'm going._

'But-' the falcon started to protest, but broke off when Raimundo ignored him and continued. 'Never mind...'

Then something hurled itself out of the forestry, and before Raimundo cold cry out, he'd been swallowed by darkness.

* * *

Clay walked through his part of the woods, looking around for signs of the Wu thief. So far he'd had no luck.

But he kept walking anyway, searching intently for the Wu. Upon his head, Dojo was trying to make light conversation to lighten things up a little, and Clay listened quietly.

"Well, then Chuck," said Dojo, his tone turning scathing at the name, "said – There's someone in the trees over there."

"Oh, well, I guess that was kinda rude of him," Clay said.

"No, seriously." Dojo's tone was a little frightened. "Somebody's over there."

The cowboy stopped dead in his tracks, and looked around casually. Sure enough, a shadow lurked behind a nearby tree. Clay tried not to draw attention to himself as he casually took off his hat and grabbed a long, coiled snake. As though it were nothing of consequence, Clay began to twirl it like a lasso.

"Lasso Boa-Boa!" he suddenly shouted, and whirled it over at the figure. But whoever it was dodged and caught the Shen-Gong-Wu calmly.

"Really, are you that slow?" said a low voice.

The next thing Clay knew, the Lasso Boa-Boa was tied around him and the tree, and someone was chuckling in the distance.

* * *

Raimundo very suddenly came back to his senses. His vision was a little blurry, and he was currently suffering from a particularly painful headache, but other than that, he felt fine. In fact, he was not tied up, nor injured. This would have been very strange to the boy if he wasn't already occupied.

The falcon was muttering incoherently, though his tone was worried.

'Ah, Raimundo,' he said suddenly. 'You're awake.'

It took the Dragon of Wind a moment to realize who he was talking to. Suddenly, he had the distinct feeling of being duped.

_Did you plan this?_ Raimundo asked angrily.

'Great Ghost of Dashi, no!' said the falcon vehemently. Raimundo felt a ripple of surprise. That was a term he'd only heard from Xiaolin Warriors. 'Wraith and I are not what you would define as friends, nor do we want to be.'

_Wraith?_ _Who's-?_

But the question was cut off when he looked around. Very close by was a very familiar creature...

It was the same cat that had attacked him at five-years-old, except...different. It was larger now, to be sure, and while it'd seemed thin then, it was sleek now. And the tip of its tail now occupied a flame, as green as its eyes. But other than that, it looked the same; the same tawny fur, faint tiger-like stripes, and its vibrant green eyes were as fiery as ever, as was their menace.

_...Is that Wraith?_

'That's him,' said the falcon grimly.

Trying not to draw attention to himself, Raimundo attempted to scoot unobtrusively away. But when he so much as twitched, Wraith leapt over to him and pinned him down with a single paw. Raimundo was astonished by the strength he felt there.

"Going somewhere?" growled Wraith, the green eyes piercing the Dragon of the Wind to the core. Raimundo faintly heard the falcon groan.

'Avoid his eyes.'

_What-?_

'Avoid his eyes!'

Raimundo did as he was told, and instead focused his gaze on the tip of one long, white whisker. Wraith's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but then he heard something and lifted his head. He grinned at the foliage.

"About time, Young's Apprentice," he said smoothly.

Raimundo could help but feel surprised when a distinctly human voice answered back. "When are you going to stop calling me that?"

"Never," the cat replied.

Suddenly, a tall figure entered. A young man, perhaps nineteen, stood there, dressed in a black trench coat; in fact, he was dressed almost entirely in black, except for the dark brown boots and silver belt.

Raimundo looked up at the man's face, and felt his stomach vanish. He had short ebony hair, and piercing dark eyes... and he would have been very handsome if not for the three long scars, healed with soft scar tissue, that flashed across his face.

"_I haven't seen my brother in seven years."_

_This day just keeps getting better and better_, thought Raimundo ruefully.

* * *

**Yes, I have left you with yet another cliffie! Don't bother to tell me I'm evil, I already know.**

**I didn't originally intend to bring him in so soon, but...it just fit that way. And if this chapter seems rushed, I'm really sorry.**

**Review, please!**


	9. The Dangers of Eavesdropping

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, not mine, not mine.

A/N: Hi people! I've updated, as you can see, though one day later than usual. I had to use the "Block Basher" again... -twirls sledgehammer idly-

I must ask for your forgiveness. We've got a little action scene at the beginning here, but this is mostly an "explanation" chappie. And it won't be the last...

* * *

_Prophecy_

A _Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction  
Written by Calistar Heir

**Chapter Nine: The Dangers of Eavesdropping**

Omi had been trekking for a good ten minutes when it happened: the tiniest of miniscule tugs, causing him to pause in his tracks. He looked around, but he already knew he was quite alone. And besides, it hadn't been a physical tug...it'd been more of a warning from his instincts.

_Tiger_ instincts.

Blinking, Omi shook his head with a noise of impatience, and continued determinedly. He hadn't taken more than two steps before it stopped him again, stronger this time. Confused, the Dragon of Water took a pause. What was it that made everything so strange all of a sudden? The monk couldn't exactly place what it was, but something was just a little bit...off, somehow.

Then a breeze flickered by, and if Omi didn't know better, he could've sworn it was tugging at him. But that was impossible; in all his studies, Omi knew that only a Dragon of Wind particularly in tune with their abilities could ever do it. Yet that was only myth...wasn't it?

_And anyway, why would the wind be bothered with __**me**__? Only Raimundo has even the slightest-_

Omi drew up short; he felt his tiger instincts pull again, and the wind persisted. _Is it making a plea for its master?_ Omi couldn't help wondering.

Suddenly, he felt drawn in the general direction Raimundo had gone, and felt his feet quicken as his worry strengthened with each step.

* * *

"...Brant?"

Raimundo hadn't really understood the word until it was out of his mouth, the tiniest of confused whispers. He felt a ripple of surprise from the falcon.

'You know him?'

_No,_ the Brazilian replied. ..._But Omi does._ At the thought of the small monk, Raimundo felt a pang for him. Brant was a childhood hero of Omi's, and Raimundo really didn't know how Omi would take it if he found out...

Brant seemed not to have heard Raimundo's quiet exclamation; if he did, then he took no notice. Instead, he strolled over to Wraith to stand by the cat's side.

"Where were you?" Wraith asked.

"Taking care of the cowboy," Brant replied airily. A jolt of fear for his friend stabbed at Raimundo's heart. _Clay..._ "I'm a little worried about that one...really observant."

Wraith tossed the concerns aside with a flick of his tail. "Well, the one we _should_ be concerned about is now beneath my paw; he is where we want him."

Brant grinned as his dark eyes penetrated the fourteen-year-old on the ground before him. "_Exactly_ where we want him..." The grin left his lips, but not his eyes. He glanced to the side at Wraith. "Have you searched him yet?"

"Not yet..."

"_Searched"?_ Raimundo asked the falcon in confusion, feeling a little more nervous than he would have liked. _What do they mean by "searched"?_

'It's...hard to explain,' said the falcon; something in his voice suggested that he was a little frightened. Raimundo began to feel very uncomfortable when he realized that he could sense the bird's panic rising. 'Oh, Dashi's Spirit! I'm sorry, Raimundo!'

_What for?_

The falcon's sudden blaze of panic jolted Raimundo unexpectedly, causing him to blindly strike out with all his limbs. He felt his feet connect with the unsuspecting Wraith, causing the cat-like thing to grunt with surprise as he stumbled back a step or two. Realizing in a split-second that he was no longer pinned, Raimundo scrambled out of the creature's reach and leapt to his feet, eyes flickering between the partners before him.

The cat's eyes had narrowed with displeasure, and his lip was starting to curl as a low growl rumbled in his throat. Brant, however, was harder to read. He was keeping his face carefully guarded, though his eyes had narrowed just slightly. All Raimundo knew was he was outnumbered, and he had no idea how the two before him fought or how powerful they were.

_Minor setbacks,_ said an overly confident voice at the back of his mind. He hadn't heard from it in a while...

_Says you_, Raimundo replied.

_Yeah, says me-_

'As, ah, interesting as it is to watch you argue with yourself...,' the falcon interrupted; Raimundo had almost forgotten he was there. '...you might want to concentrate on those two. Particularly Brant, since he's trying to sneak up on you from behind.'

Raimundo blinked, and unobtrusively eyed Brant. The young man didn't seem to be going anywhere, but the longer Raimundo watched, the more he began to realize that Brant was moving, much quicker than the Brazilian had thought.

_I'm gonna have to keep an eye on him...,_ thought Raimundo, making a mental note to himself.

Suddenly, Wraith dropped his jaw and shot a fire bolt. Snapping back to his senses in time, Raimundo rolled out of the way, causing the fire to disperse against a tree, which didn't seem to have taken any damage. But too late he realized that his back was turned to Brant, and felt strong hands fix him in place. Instincts screaming for him to break free, Raimundo began struggling with everything he had.

"Better get a move-on, Wraith," Brant grunted; Raimundo barely registered that he sounded a little surprised. "This is a strong one, and it won't be long before he starts using other means to gain freedom."

Wraith stalked forward with quick but dignified steps. "Do not rush me, Young's Apprentice."

"_Former_ apprentice!" hissed Brant through gritted teeth.

The cat acknowledged the statement with a glance, and then rose onto his hind paws, the front paws lightly resting on the trapped Dragon of Wind's chest for support. The eyes seemed to widen, and then fill Raimundo's own green gaze. For a second, Raimundo almost lost himself in the green fire, but something tugged him back at the last second. The cat stared intently, and suddenly the eyes narrowed with displeasure.

_**You**__!_

In Raimundo's head, Wraith's voice was far more menacing than it was when the cat was actually using its voice.

'What, no hello?' the falcon grumbled.

_It would have been wiser of you to stop when you had the chance, Haruki!_

Haruki...? Where had Raimundo heard that name before?

'Well, I didn't,' snapped the bird. 'Sorry to disappoint you.' He didn't sound sorry at all.

Wraith's lips curled into an angry snarl as he shifted his glare to Brant. "We are too late. The feathered fool is already here."

_...Your name is Haruki?_ Raimundo asked in the pause that followed.

After a few seconds' silence, the bird said, '...Yes.'

Craning his neck around, Raimundo saw that Brant's expression was one of grim resignation. "We should've known Feathers wouldn't hesitate..." Raimundo felt a wave of indignant anger from the bird in question. Then Brant shook his head as though to clear it of troubled thoughts, and his manner became somewhat aloof. "Do you think we should go in after him?"

Raimundo didn't like the sound of that...

Wraith's eyes narrowed curiously as he studied his partner, and then he grinned. "Perhaps..." He turned to face Raimundo with a nasty smile.

Raimundo looked up at the two nervously. _What happens now?_

His question was answered when lethal claws emerged from tawny-furred paws. _Oh..._

'It was nice knowing you, Raimundo,' said Haruki gloomily.

Somehow, Raimundo didn't feel surprised.

Wraith's breath hit his face; he was surprised to find it was pleasantly sweet, though it was underlined by the scent of smoke and meat. His eyes rolled up into his head, waiting for the blow that would surely kill him.

What he heard instead was a familiar shout:

"Wudai Neptune, WATER!"

Raimundo's eyes snapped open just in time to see Wraith recoiling as a massive blast of water rushed to them and rapidly engulfed the cat. Brant had just managed to leap out of the way and into the tree branches before the water reached him.

"Wind!" he muttered quickly, lifting himself up into the air before he was entirely engulfed. Raimundo floated cautiously above the water, waiting for it to recede, and only touched back down when the water was gone.

Wraith was soaking wet, standing stock-still and looking murderous, the fire on his tail out. Brant landed at the cat's side, and they both scowled at Omi, who had just arrived on the scene. The small boy was looking particularly ferocious himself as he glared at the cat with unnatural hatred. Growling, Wraith shook himself, water droplets cascading from his fur, and, with a flick of his tail, restored the flame and dried himself.

Eyes not leaving the cat for a second, Omi asked, "Are you alright, Raimundo?"

"Yeah," he said shakily, trying to stay on his feet. "I am now."

Omi nodded, a fleeting smile crossing his face. The two glanced at each other and exchanged a nod; with two screams of a war cry, the friends launched themselves at their attackers.

Wraith had lunged to meet Raimundo, but at the last second the Brazilian flipped onto his back and slid underneath the cat's outstretched claws, catching a hold of the tail. Uttering a cry of shock, the cat felt the tug and was hurled into a tree. Raimundo landed on the ground, leaping into a guarded position. Wraith hauled himself to his paws, and glared at the Brazilian.

Meanwhile, Omi had hurled himself at the nineteen-year-old, but Brant was waiting. Brant braced himself and caught Omi, whose speed caused both of them to topple and start rolling around on the ground, grappling with each other. Finally Omi wound up on top, and glared at the man. Then he recognized him, and his expression stretched with disbelief.

"...Brant?" he gasped.

Brant stared at him; then his eyes widened in shock, and to Omi's complete surprise, his face twisted with a look of anger. "_You_!" he hissed. He hurled Omi off of himself, and leapt to his feet. Omi started to back away, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Omi!" shouted Raimundo from where he was grappling with Wraith, trying to keep the cat's jaws from closing. "Snap out of it, pal!"

But Omi still seemed to be in shock. Briefly, Raimundo felt a stab of sympathy: he realized that this was more than seeing a former friend: it was losing the image of a childhood hero.

Brant let out a harsh bark of humorless laughter. "Aren't you going to fight me?" he snarled, and without waiting for an answer he attacked.

The monk only stared; but he pulled himself out of it a little just in time to dodge a blow from Brant. For a long time, the two stared at each other as Raimundo struggled with the claws and teeth of the cat he was battling, and Omi took in every detail of Brant's face, every last bit of the Heylin-esque aura.

_Heylin._ The word was poison to Omi's ears.

...And that was the side Brant was on: Not Xiaolin, _Heylin_.

_How?_ Omi thought, feeling the helplessness creeping in. _How...?_

Several feet away, Raimundo, in his helpless position, felt his eyes widen was Wraith reared his head, teeth bared to strike.

"Wudai Crater, EARTH!"

Huge chunks of rock and earth tore themselves from the ground and rammed into Brant and Wraith, knocking both of them out of their respective battles. Clay came barreling out of the forest, eyes flashing, and seconds later Kimiko leapt out of the trees just behind Brant and Wraith to land next to her friends.

Wraith opened his mouth to loose a blast, but Clay stomped a foot to the ground, and a wall of rock sprang up, separating the Xiaolin Warriors from the blast. There was a bright flash of green, and the rocks crumbled.

An unnatural silence fell; a huge cloud of dust had risen when the rocks fell, hiding the pair from the Wudai Warriors' sight. The four friends suddenly found that they'd stopped breathing as they stared at the cloud of dust from the rocks.

Suddenly, with a single sweep of his tail, Wraith dispersed the debris, and his fiery eyes flickered over all of them. When his gaze landed on Kimiko, he stopped, and his whiskers twitched.

"The Dragon of Fire, eh?" he said quietly. A humorless smirk crossed his face. "Let us see how you handle this flame!"

He dropped his jaw and slowly reared back his head, as a green ball of fire grew quickly and steadily larger. Subconsciously, the boys began shifting closer to Kimiko, as she positioned her arms in a stance they'd seen her take not too long ago on an oilrig.

Wraith fired, and Kimiko shouted, "WUDAI FIRE SHIELD!"

The dome of flames leapt up, blocking the ball of green. But suddenly they saw green flames struggling to push through the red and orange. Raimundo heard Kimiko give a small, almost incoherent whimper, and glanced at her to see her face falling steadily into an expression of pain, as though it was hurting her to keep up the shield. Horror and alarm mingled as an icy hand gripped his heart.

When the shield lowered, Kimiko's knees gave way, and Raimundo just barely caught her before she hit the ground. Her eyes were half shut, and Raimundo could tell that she was still conscious. Seemingly unaware of whose arms she was in, she allowed the Dragon of Wind to hold her as she stared unseeingly ahead, her eyes confused. Without a sound, she raised one shaky hand and held it before her face, studying it; her dulled eyes brimmed with expressions ranging from confusion to complete bafflement.

"...Why?" she whispered to herself.

Soft, mocking laughter brought Raimundo's attention back to the two before them. They were both smirking at Raimundo, and Wraith cooed mockingly, "How precious."

Normally, Raimundo would've turned bright red with embarrassment by now, but when the taunts came from Brant and Wraith, the Brazilian suddenly felt a resolve he wasn't really familiar with. Where had this come from...? But he shoved that aside and gripped Kimiko to him tighter as he glared at the two in front of him, defiance shining in his eyes.

"Well, we'd like to stick around," said Brant calmly, "but we have other things to do." His eyes flicked to the cat-thing next to him. "Wraith?"

Wraith nodded to him, and whipped his tail to the ground, drawing it back slowly. Shadows began to rise out of the ground without any particular shape, and then they formed and seemed to solidify. They were mimics of Wraith, blurry but solid, smaller, black furred and their eyes pale white, blank and staring.

"Have fun with my Shades, warriors," Wraith whispered, almost to himself.

The partners grinned at the monks, and then slipped silently back into the forestry and vanished, the Shades the only thing to say they'd been there.

For a moment, the Shades didn't move, standing where they'd risen from the ground unmoving, only fixing the quartet with forever staring eyes. Then Raimundo blinked, and the Shades were in midair, leaping towards them at incredible speed.

In his arms, he felt Kimiko move, and looking down at her, he saw the girl raising an arm to give an attack. "Wudai- Wudai Mars, _Fire_!" she whispered.

Flames erupted from the palm of her hand, and fire bolts screamed through the air, hitting a few of the shadow-like creatures and knocking them back. When they hit the ground, they shattered and dissolved like smoke.

As though Kimiko had given a signal, Clay, Omi, and Raimundo snapped out of their brief shock. The three scattered from their places, moments before the remaining Shades landed. Raimundo gently laid Kimiko on the ground, just as he heard his other friends shouting their attacks, and he turned just in time to see the felines shattering from blasts of water and rock. Summoning up his own element, Raimundo sent the remaining Shades flying into trees, blasting apart on impact.

Then Raimundo felt a tug as something cool and intangible messed his hair, and he whipped around to see a Shade pouncing at him, only to be hit by a red flame; it was knocked off course and dissolved against a tree.

After a few seconds' worth of staring, Raimundo slowly sighted the line of fire, and saw Kimiko, on her feet and scowling, her hand still stretched out from the attack. Then the scowl lifted, Kimiko lowered her hand to her side, and let out a sigh of relief.

"That's the last of 'em," she said, and almost immediately fell to her knees. Alarmed, Raimundo rushed over to her, but she put out a hand to push him away.

"I'm fine, Rai." Kimiko slowly hauled herself to her feet, wincing slightly. Once standing, she tossed her head and looked at him, her face calm but the eyes challenging him to say otherwise. "Really I am."

After several moments of fixing the Japanese girl with a searching gaze, Raimundo shrugged helplessly and turned to look at his other two friends. "You guys okay?"

Clay nodded, "Fine," but Omi did not reply; he was staring at the ground with a curious, unreadable expression, though Raimundo saw the eyes briefly flickering with puzzlement. Clay cast the young monk a glance, and walked over to Raimundo. "Not so sure about Omi, though."

"He's probably in shock," said Raimundo tiredly. "...That guy was Brant."

As expected, Clay's eyes widened. "Axel's brother?"

Raimundo nodded, and Clay gave a low whistle.

"They won't be too happy to hear about that...," he muttered, almost to himself; but Raimundo couldn't help nodding in agreement.

'The boy has family?' asked Haruki; he sounded surprised.

_Yeah...,_ Raimundo replied gloomily. Then he looked at Clay and asked, "What'd Brant do to you? He told the cat that he'd taken care of you..."

Clay looked up and snorted. "If you can call it 'taken care of'... He just tied me to a tree with the Lasso Boa-Boa and left. Guess he didn't reckon Dojo'd be so good with rope."

"Dojo?" echoed Raimundo, and looked up at Clay's hat to see the dragon peeking out from underneath. "_Oh_! So _that's_ where you've been."

"Look, I'm smart enough to know when to keep out of a battle!" snapped Dojo, eyes narrowed as he curled himself around Clay's hat.

"Calm down, pardner," said Clay, smiling up at his friend. Looking back at Raimundo, he motioned to Kimiko with his eyes. "So what's up with her? She didn't look too good while trying to hold up that shield-"

"I'm fine!" Kimiko snapped, her eyes turning into twin blue fires.

Rolling his eyes, Raimundo turned and faced the Japanese girl with a hard stare, which she met stiffly with glinting eyes. For a moment, Clay glanced between the two, and then exchanged a look with Dojo. Then he cleared his throat. "Er, I'm gonna look around...see if those two really left. I'll give a signal if we bump into them."

And he hurried away, Dojo rolling his eyes and groaning deep in his throat.

The two Dragons didn't look away, Raimundo's emerald eyes calm while Kimiko's sapphire irises still danced with angry flames. Neither really noticed when Omi wandered over to watch the whole proceeding.

"What happened back there, girl?" he asked after a few moments.

"Nothing happened," Kimiko bristled.

Raimundo didn't back down. "Something was happening. You looked like-"

"Forget it!" she snapped, whipping around so Raimundo was faced with her back.

"Looked like you were in pain," the Brazilian finished stubbornly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Omi looking between the two with a confused expression, but the sight didn't register with his brain. The concern he felt was almost overwhelming, and, hesitantly, he followed the impulse of trying to put a hand on her shoulder; he could've sworn he heard the falcon give a surprised grunt, but he didn't pay mind to it. "Kimi, you can tell-"

"I'm _fine_, Raimundo!" she shouted angrily as she spun around and knocked his arm away. Raimundo took a step back, a jumble of confusing feelings painfully flooding him. "And you're one to talk! I wanted to help you yesterday, and you wouldn't hear a word of it!"

Before he could stop himself, Raimundo felt himself bristling and falling into the old habit of rising to her bait. "Only because it was too complicated for you to understand!" he retorted heatedly.

Kimiko let out a humorless bark of laughter. "And you think that this is _totally different_, do you?"

"_No_, but-"

Kimiko didn't give him time to finish before snarling coldly, "Besides, why do _you_ care?" Her voice suddenly rose with fury. "SINCE WHEN HAVE _YOU EVER_ CARED?"

Raimundo halted at this sentence, suddenly going tongue-tied. He glanced at Omi, and saw that the little monk was wearing a frown that suggested he was thinking hard about something. Then, much to his horror, he saw Omi's face brighten, as though he'd solved the puzzle, and grinned slyly at Raimundo. At the same time, he heard Haruki say, 'Ohh...' his voice filled to the brim with realization. The heat was coming to Raimundo's cheeks, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But luckily, or maybe unluckily, Raimundo didn't know, Kimiko seemed to take his reddened cheeks as a sign of anger. She threw her hands up into the air and said, "Y'know what? Forget it! I'm sick of this conversation! See ya when we take off!"

And with that, she turned on her heel and stomped furiously into the woods. Raimundo wanted to call after her, but all that was coming out of his mouth was a jumble of half-finished words.

* * *

Clay was nearly bowled over when someone violently shoved past. Stumbling, Clay looked around and saw Kimiko marching away.

"Hey, Kim!"

"Buzz off, cowboy!" she growled testily in reply.

Blinking, Clay stared after her. "Something wrong?"

"I don't know," she snapped, turning back slightly. "Why don't you ask the _all-knowing Dragon of the Wind_!" Then she paused, grabbed something, and hurled it back to Clay, who just barely caught it in time. He looked at it, and rubbed his thumb against of rays of the Pendant of Light. Still warm...

"There! That oughta make him happy!"

She disappeared into the forest, not waiting to hear another word. The leaves rustled, and then they faintly heard Kimiko's footsteps crashing through the undergrowth in the distance. By the time the sounds of the angry girl faded, Clay was just recovering. Wordlessly, he blinked up at Dojo.

"Hey, don't ask _me_," said Dojo, looking stumped. "I'm not equipped to handle these kinds of relationships."

"And yet you're a psychiatrist?"

Dojo cleared his throat and muttered incoherently. Clay grinned, and then added as he turned to go in the direction Kimiko had come from, "Maybe we should go back and make sure she didn't leave Raimundo with any serious injuries..."

* * *

It was perhaps a moment or a day later that Raimundo realized Omi was still staring at him. Annoyance invading his brain, he turned around to see that the Dragon of Water was _still_ wearing his stupid knowing smirk.

"Yes?" Raimundo glowered, still irritated from his "conversation" with Kimiko.

Omi continued to smirk knowingly. "It appears that someone has a squash!"

There was a brief silence with which Raimundo stared at Omi; somewhere in the recesses of his brain, he heard Haruki give a snort of laughter and fall into a silent fit of sniggering. Normally he was able to decipher Omi's horrendous slang terms easily; this time around, however, it wasn't that simple. He felt he should've known this... and suddenly had a peculiar feeling that he did. A word kept flashing through his mind, but some part of him was struggling to smother it.

"Explanation, please?" he said.

"Oh, you know," Omi groaned, slapping a hand to his brow. "When a boy has very special feelings for a girl and feels they are, how you say, 'more than friends', and vice-versa."

Suddenly the word was released, and he distinctly heard a part of him labeled Common Sense groan loudly. "Oh, a _crush_," said Raimundo, nodding slowly. "I have a crush on Ki-"

When he realized what he was saying, Raimundo clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. But it was too late: the damage had been done, and Omi was grinning triumphantly.

'Oho!'

_Shut up!_

"Ah, Raimundo!" said Omi cheerfully, rushing forward and vigorously, almost violently so, shaking his friend's hand. "I am most pleased for you!"

"There's nothing to be pleased about!" Raimundo yelped, wrenching his hand free of Omi's bone-crushing grasp. But Omi continued to grin. "For crying out loud, I don't have a crush on Kimiko!"

"But it is most obvious to me now!" Omi replied.

"What is?" asked Clay, emerging from the trees. "Rai's crush on Kim?"

Raimundo let loose a screech of frustration. "DOES THE WHOLE STUPID FOREST HAVE TO KNOW?"

'If you don't lower your voice, _Kimiko_ will,' said a quiet voice in a manner that suggested it was trying to stifle laughter.

Quivering with rage, he blinked the sentence away but tried to lower his voice all the same. "Am I that obvious?" he snapped. Then Raimundo blinked, and, burying his face in his hands, groaned loudly, realizing that he'd just basically admitted to it.

"Pretty much," Clay remarked lightly. "But don't worry, Rai, I don't think Kimiko's noticed."

Raimundo allowed his hands to drop at his sides, his eyes closed. "Good," he muttered.

"...You are curious whether Kimiko feels the same?" questioned Omi's voice.

Not thinking about it, Raimundo nodded mutely. Upon opening his eyes, he realized he'd just made a huge mistake when he saw the seemingly limitless grin on Omi's face.

"Then I shall help you with this problem!" he declared, raising a hand.

Several birds sang; the wind rustled the leafy boughs of the trees around them. And for several seconds, Raimundo could only stare open-mouthed at his young friend. Then he stuttered, "W-_what_?"

"Help you with your crush! I shall be your support!" And Omi hugged his friend around the middle; Raimundo became aware of Haruki positively howling with laughter, and Clay attempting to turn his own laugh into a cough. "I shall act as your eyes, and give you whatever advice I can! This is a most fascinating subject for me, so I will be sure to be diligent in my duties!"

Raimundo stared down at the monk in horror, and then looked up pleadingly at Clay's amused face. "Clay-"

"Oh no you don't! Leave me out of it!" Clay chuckled, putting his hands up and walking after Kimiko, eyeing Omi as he went. "Besides, I think you're pretty well covered from here!"

"What – hey!" Raimundo waved wildly after the Dragon of Earth for him to stop. "Get back here! I need your help with Round-Dude, cowboy!"

"Last night you called me wise," Clay called over his shoulder as Dojo fell into silent snickering. "So I'm going to wisely keep myself out of this!"

And he left, Dojo's laughter finally overcoming the dragon and breaking loose to echo through the trees.

Suddenly Omi released the older boy, and stood back, beaming. "Now, I am still most curious about girls, so I will once again turn to this!" He held out a square object, and Raimundo eyed the familiar book uneasily.

"Uh, Omi?" he asked, looking at _The Most Ancient Guide to Females_ as though it were a timed bomb with ten seconds left to exploding. "Do you have any idea what Kimiko'll do to you if she sees that title again?"

"A little," remarked Omi, storing the book again. "But she will not see it."

"And even with that, you know little to nothing about girls," Raimundo couldn't help adding.

"Perhaps not, but I know Kimiko," he said calmly. "And even that should be sufficient!" Omi skipped away, looking extremely cheerful. "Do not worry, Raimundo! Everything will be fine. After all, you have _me_ to guide you!"

Raimundo watched him go, mutely dumbfounded. "...There goes the bravest kid I've ever met."

'Are you saying that he doesn't know what he's getting into?' It sounded as though Haruki had finally managed to calm down. Throughout the conversation Raimundo had been having with Omi, the falcon had been sniggering away.

"Let's put it this way: Kimiko's temper is a live volcano, waiting for any reason to blow, and Omi is...well..."

'...the unsuspecting hiker about to fall into the lava pit?'

"...Yeah." Raimundo groaned and passed a hand over his eyes. "Kimiko's going to _murder_ him before this is over... I've sent him to his doom!"

Haruki made an amused noise. 'Well, "sent" isn't the word I'd use...'

_What's the word you-_ Raimundo stopped the thought abruptly when he realized that he was practically talking to himself. "Who are you, anyway?" He wasn't aware of slipping into speaking aloud once more.

The answer didn't come immediately. As the voice continued to hesitate, the silence stretched on, and Raimundo dared to hope that the bird (if he really _was_ a bird) had left. Haruki seemed to have caught on, however.

'Still here.'

Raimundo slumped his shoulders. _Sorry... Go ahead if you're ready._

'...Maybe you should start walking; it might help you process it.'

A ripple of mixed surprise and curiosity passed over Raimundo, and he started walking, slowly.

'You already know that my name is Haruki; Wraith saw to that. I'm...not sure how to explain my being to you, but my strength lies in the wind...like you.'

"Is that why you're stuck with _me_?" Raimundo couldn't help interrupting.

'Partly...,' Haruki responded delicately. The Brazilian couldn't help but feel like the falcon was dancing around the answer.

"And are there others like you? Like water, fire, and earth?"

'Yes, though I must say, they are all quite whole at the moment... And I was getting to that,' he said testily when Raimundo started to ask another question. The Brazilian silenced sheepishly and allowed him to continue. 'As to why I'm "stuck in your head" as we seem to call it, as I've said multiple times, there's no alternative. At least, none that would benefit us... A while ago, it could've been days or perhaps months, I haven't kept track, I bumped into Wraith and we had a little fight...'

"You know him pretty well then," remarked the Dragon of Wind. In his mind's eye, he could almost see Haruki nodding.

'The two of us are alike, both of us representations of a type, both drawing a certain amount of strength from an element, though on opposite sides of the spectrum of Good and Evil. We're sworn rivals, he and I; I'm not particularly sure for how long, for there's the possibility that it had been decided before our births. All I know is, I've never liked him, and he's never liked me. That's pretty much the only thing we agree upon. Normally when we cross, we exchange a few insults, perhaps even a few blows, but mind our business. But this time... I suppose he didn't like what I was up to, and decided to take matters into his own claws...'

"Wraith did this to you?" Raimundo's eyes had widened.

Haruki sighed. 'Yes. He showed a burst of power not permitted outside of battles or duels, directed at me; I suppose he meant to rid himself of me, but I managed to just barely counter it in time. And it's a good thing I reacted before receiving the full blast; I suspect that he meant to banish me completely. Foolish of him to attempt, but what's done is done. Anyway, my counter managed to save my life, but not my body. And that was the problem: at this time, it's crucial that I am able to communicate with you not only in dreams, but the waking world too. However, in my current state I could only speak with you in the subconscious, which was extremely risky, for as you know, you don't remember all of your dreams...'

"So...you entered me?"

'Basically; I've taken sanctuary within you, Raimundo, but I can assure you, we are very much detached from each other.'

"But, you can hear my thoughts, feel what I feel-"

'Feel what you feel?' Was Haruki smirking? 'That's a vivid imagination you've got here.'

"But you still hear my thoughts!"

'True...' He sounded thoughtful. 'I think there's a way we can block me from your thoughts if they aren't directed at me...'

"And what about our powers?" the Brazilian added urgently.

'Sorry?'

"What I guess I mean is, do your powers affect mine, or vise-versa? I mean, does having you in me strengthen my gifts, or...something to that effect?"

'Great Ghost of Dashi, boy! Of course not!' Haruki sounded so shocked by the question that Raimundo stumbled as he tried to climb over an above-ground tree root and wondered if he'd offended the falcon. 'If we're granted access to each others' gifts, our situation will be even _worse_, and I'm in enough trouble as it is- Don't ask,' he snapped as Raimundo began to form the question.

"Sorry," Raimundo stammered quickly. "But...are there side-effects from you being in me?"

'...Yes,' said Haruki, calm once more. 'One: you can understand the language Wraith uses, and many others I know.'

Raimundo felt a ripple of surprise. "Huh?"

'Wraith speaks a language known by a select few of humans. It's difficult for humans to learn, but not impossible- if you're willing to spend half of your lifetime learning it. Your friends' ears, unless aided by the Tongue of Saiping, are deaf to his words, blocked by sound of growls that are his way of speaking. However, you can now speak with him without translation.'

"Until you leave," Raimundo pointed out.

'...Yes,' said Haruki slowly.

Although he couldn't see the other participant in this conversation, Raimundo's eyes narrowed. "You don't sound so sure..."

'What? Oh! No, I was just...thinking it out...'

He fell silent, and as Raimundo continued, he realized that Haruki may have stopped the explanations. Somehow, the boy felt a little left out. "...That's it?"

'For now.'

"But- there's still so much to explain!"

'I realize that,' said Haruki patiently. 'But it will have to wait. If I tried to explain it to you now, it'd go right over your head, and I don't want to have to repeat myself later on.'

"...Fine," Raimundo grumbled. Pushing a branch out of the way, he took another few steps, and then paused, biting his lip uncertainly. He didn't really know how to bring it up, but Haruki did it for him by sighing heavily.

'_Now_ what?'

"Um...can I...tell my friends?" asked Raimundo cautiously.

Haruki paused for a very long moment. 'Raimundo,' he said quietly, 'it's not up to me what you tell your friends or not. You are free to tell them or not tell them whatever you wish. However, giving the decision a little thought might be wise. Think about what it would sound like to them, and put that in context with what's been happening to you. First you're having nightmares you don't want to discuss; then you collapse, and are unwilling to share that, too; next, you pull Dojo back, causing him to narrowly avoid what was a potentially fatal blast; now you're hearing and talking to a voice only you can hear?'

Raimundo allowed all of this to process, and muttered, "Well, when you put it like that..."

'How would you like me to-'

"Raimundo!"

The Brazilian jumped, and saw Clay walking towards him. Haruki fell silent once more.

"You're taking an awfully long time, pardner." The cowboy cocked his head to the side, giving Raimundo a concerned look. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" said Raimundo vaguely. "Oh, yeah, just thinking about stuff, Clay..."

Clay nodded. "Well, if you're going to think that slowly, then maybe you shouldn't use your head too much."

Raimundo scowled at Clay's amused expression, and picked up the pace so that he and Clay were doing a quick march. "Har, har."

The cowboy chuckled, and for a long while neither said anything. Haruki had fallen silent once more, leaving Raimundo in peace for the first time in what seemed a long while. When the trees were thinning, however, Clay glanced at his friend.

"I heard you talking to someone."

Raimundo blinked up at the Dragon of Earth. "What?"

"I heard your voice," said Clay. "Sounded like you were talking to someone..."

"Oh, just thinking aloud," said Raimundo in what he hoped was a casual manner. Judging from the look Clay was giving him, the cowboy didn't believe that statement for a second, but he said nothing else.

Getting to the edge of the woods, Raimundo saw Dojo, Omi and Kimiko, her arms crossed, standing nearby, waiting for them. Hearing there approach, the three turned, and spotting him, Kimiko marched over to Raimundo.

"Where've you been?" she said. There was something in her voice that said that not all of the irritation from their argument had left her.

"Thinking...," said Raimundo evasively.

Kimiko glared suspiciously at him, but brushed whatever it was nagging her aside with a flick of her hand. "Anyway, you just missed Master Monk Guan."

"The Guanmister was here?" asked Raimundo, interest piqued.

"Yes," Omi said. "He did not speak with us, but we saw him enter the temple..."

He paused here, glanced at Kimiko and winked in a way he probably thought was unnoticeable; Raimundo felt a twinge of unease at the motion. Omi hadn't forgotten about his offer...

'You were hoping he had?'

Haruki's voice, half incredulous, half amused, caused the unease to grow from a twinge to a shiver. The thought of what Omi might try in the upcoming days was frightening to imagine.

Then a horrifying thought came to him. Or, at least, it was horrifying to _him_; hearing it, Haruki burst into laughter.

_What if Omi tries to "help" me __**now**__?_

'Then at least you died for love!' exclaimed Haruki in a purposely cheesy voice.

_Will you __**please**__ shut up?_

* * *

Jack drummed his fingers idly on the table top. In the darkness of his lair, the light shining onto the work table seemed almost like it was descending out of Heaven. He'd joked that it helped him think, to which Wuya had always snidely remarked that he needed all the help he could get.

The Evil Genius growled under his breath. _Stupid witch-hag_, he thought broodingly. _Going to Chase when I saw him first... Who needs her? _I_ don't. She can go trip into another puzzle box for all I care._

_...Although...,_ he found himself adding a little regretfully, _it __**is**__ a little quieter now with her gone..._

Jack started at this, and shook his head furiously. This hadn't been the first time he found himself missing Wuya. Actually _missing_ her! What a joke! Maybe he'd been knocked around by the Xiaolin Losers one too many times. He seriously needed a vacation.

...No... He needed a _distraction_: a puzzle, a misshapen potato, a piece of fluff, _something_.

"Jack?"

Spicer jumped when his mother's voice slipped into the basement. "Yeah, mom?" he called.

"I'm making some cookies; do you want some, sweetheart?"

Somewhere in the recesses of his ticking mind, Jack knew that if anyone heard his mother calling him that, he'd lose what little reputation he had left and plunge even farther into the dark abyss of insults and people laughing at him on the internet. But he didn't mind hearing Mrs. Spicer say that; she was his mother, after all.

"Sure," he replied. "Just tell me when they're ready."

"Alright then. And Jack!" Aliza Spicer's voice suddenly became stern. "I don't want you fiddling around with those microwaves all day! Get out and enjoy the sunshine a little!"

"They're not _microwaves_, mom!" Jack argued in frustration, marching up to the lair door and opening it to look at his mother. "They're Jackbots!"

Aliza wrinkled her attractive nose. "They're all the same to me; didn't you have one that gave you food?"

Jack hesitated, and glanced over his shoulder. Yes-bot lay in a tragic heap, on top of the mounting pile of robots that he hadn't bothered to try and fix yet. He tried not to cry when he thought about the incident: a misfired Star of Hanabi striking the open hatch.

"Still not the same thing," he said firmly, turning back to Aliza.

The woman gave her only and undeniably odd son a long look, and then shrugged with a sigh. "Just come up once in a while, won't you?" With a fond smile, she reached forward and ruffled Jack's hair, who didn't complain, though he started smoothing it back into place once she stopped. Then she backed away from the door, signaling Jack that he could close it. However, he didn't until her back was turned.

Feeling grumpy, Jack stomped back to the table, thinking that maybe he could do a little eavesdropping on the Xiaolin Temple, though the losers hadn't been there for a while. Still, he thought as he sat down and put on the earphones, he might be able pick up something interesting.

Unfortunately for him, Jack had no idea what awaited him on the other end...

For what seemed a long time, Jack sat there, starting to slouch and drum his fingers again. Nothing: absolutely nothing. Did no one _talk _over there? Of course, during his brief stay at the Temple, no one had exactly talked to him or the warriors except Fung; everyone else had kept themselves to themselves.

"_-calm down."_

Jack sat up so fast that he nearly toppled out of his chair. He'd got something! Eagerly, he leaned in as though the conversation was taking place right in front of him. He was surprised, however, when growling replied. Jack blinked.

"_Would you quit complaining about your paw? You're a big boy; do it yourself!" _After a few more growls, the voice continued. _"Well there's no need to get snippy about it."_

Spicer felt his jaw drop. Was this guy using the Tongue of Saiping? He shook that thought away as the man on the other line spoke again.

"_You want my honest opinion? That was too easy. Are you sure one of those four could actually-"_

The thing the man was speaking to suddenly gave a sharp animal-like noise, silencing him. Jack allowed himself a small groan of disappointment; that had sounded interesting. Then something tickled at his brain: Thingy had stopped Whoever just before he gave away anything potentially important. He swallowed. _Does Thingy know I'm listening?_ Jack wondered nervously, more out of paranoia than anything.

"_Spicer might know..."_ Whoever sounded thoughtful; there were more growls. _"And I believe you, but surely we could check with Frederick? He might confirm us, in case we missed something-"_

Once again, he was interrupted by growls.

"_Oh don't get started on Spicer junior again!"_ Jack felt his interest quicken at the mention of himself. _"Ever since we met you've been defending that idiot's competency, and I can't see why!"_

The redhead frowned to himself as more growling continued, and jumped violently when Whoever gave a shout of laughter.

"_You're_ _**scared**__ of him?"_ howled Whoever, roaring with laughter. Despite the laughing, the sorry remains of Jack's well-battered ego swelled a little. _"Him? __**Jack Spicer**__? The self-proclaimed Evil Boy Genius and Dark Prince of the Universe, 'I got Jacked', Jack Spicer?"_

The unrestrained laughter continued so long and loudly that Jack felt his ego slowly returning to the dark, cramped corner that it spent the majority of its days lately. Then the laughing slowly began to fade, and Jack realized that Thingy was "speaking" again.

Then for a few moments there was silence, and Jack wondered if his bug had broken. Then Whoever said, _"Yes, that could be a bit of a problem... It wouldn't be wise to ignore a potential obstacle like that. Hmm..."_

Thingy made a few pitiful noises, and Jack heard Whoever sigh. _"Alright, alright; give me your paw."_ After a few moments, he added, _"Of course, we'll have to take care of Spicer; as much as I hate to say it, that idiot's an unexpected problem."_

Jack felt what little color he had in his face drain quickly, and it was all he could do not to pass out right there. Whoever made a noise, as though he'd found the bug, and Jack could almost hear the smirk.

"_We'll get rid of you soon enough, Spicer."_

The line went dead.

* * *

**Ho hum.**

**Please review; tell me what you think.**


	10. Ready, Set, Go

**Disclaimer:** -walks in and looks around- ...Hey! Where's the disclaimer? -spots Haruki looking around embarrassedly; warningly- Haruki... -growls and wields a somewhat re-battered Block Basher-

Haruki: -sighs- Oh, alright. Calistar Heir does not own _Xiaolin Showdown_ or any of its characters. -pauses- But she does own me (unfortunately,) Brant and his family, and Wraith.

A/N: Yes; as you can see, Haruki's sorta become a muse. One or two of you may have seen him in reviews; anyway, you'll be seeing him around.

Haruki: Lucky me. -notes Calistar's expression- Er, I mean, lucky me! Eheh... -.-;

Anonymous reviewers! Look here for replies!

**unknown:** Thanks, both on the cliffhanger and Omi's new resolve. I actually laughed while writing that part.

**Ali:** Urgh, I hate it when that happens. Yeah, Wraith's really that powerful; and there's more where that came from, trust me.

**Mari:** Welcome! Thank you for reviewing!

So anyway; should I keep torturing them?

Haruki: ...Nah. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you got any writing done at all; I mean - it's been an eventful time since you last updated.

It's been a _few weeks_ since I last updated. -.-; Here's the update.

* * *

_Prophecy_

A _Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction  
Written by Calistar Heir

**Chapter Ten: Ready, Set, Go**

Kimiko could still feel the irritation from the argument, even while the familiar feeling of Dojo in flight rippled beneath her. Raimundo situated just behind her didn't help matters either, especially since his steady breathing was sending a tickling sensation up and down her spine. Shaking her head impatiently, she tried not to think about it, or all the other oddities she'd been feeling lately when it came to Raimundo. _Stupid Rai..._

...Actually, it wasn't that she was still irritated from the argument. It was that, no matter how much she tried not to, she felt herself slowly starting to forgive Raimundo... and, she thought, far too easily.

Or maybe, she ventured as they continued their flight, it was the addition of what had happened earlier. Because as much as she hated to admit it, her Brazilian friend was right:

Something wrong had happened back there.

Frowning in confusion to herself, Kimiko almost subconsciously lifted her hand to look at it. She wanted to wonder about it, question it, find some sort of reason for the problem, but no such things came to mind. All she could think was the same question she'd uttered while in Raimundo's arms: _Why?_

Sighing, she placed her hand back onto Dojo for balance, and tried to find entertainment in staring at the back of Omi's head. She had to admit, the reflection _was_ fascinating, but not enough to engross her confused mind. Furrowing her brow, Kimiko realized that Omi had been acting a little strangely...and Raimundo, too, for that matter. Clay hadn't been too strange around her, but he tended to start chuckling under his breath when looking at his friends, and Kimiko wondered what the cowboy knew that she didn't.

These may have troubled Kimiko, but everyone else had other things on their minds; things Kimiko knew she should have been worrying about, too.

For one thing, there was Wraith. For some reason, everyone seemed nervous when talking about the cat. Kimiko really didn't know why her friends acted the way they did, but she knew why she did. Though she was pretty sure she'd never seen Wraith before, Kimiko knew without doubt that she had seen those eyes. With a jolt, she wondered if he had been the source of the flames from that moment... But, if he'd attacked her, how had she countered it?

Kimiko doubted that they would have had _too_ much trouble with Wraith were he alone, but that was where Brant came in. Although they hadn't seen very much of his fighting skills, they were certain that he wasn't to be looked over. Well, she, Raimundo, and Clay had come to that conclusion; Omi hadn't said much on the subject, and instead seemed to have become lost in thought. And Kimiko couldn't blame him, either.

Still the question remained: What were Brant and Wraith up to, anyway?

That brought Kimiko and the others to sitting on Dojo. She and her friends were now headed to the best source of information they felt they could risk: Jack Spicer. In all honesty, it was a very slim chance that Jack had even the slightest glimmer of light to shed on the shadowed situation, but the Wudai Warriors were desperate, and Jack always seemed up to date with anything evil. (Kimiko still couldn't fathom that the Heylin side had its own advertising and production system, but she'd found that there was always something surprising just around the corner in her current lifestyle.)

Besides, it was either Jack or Chase Young and Wuya, and no one currently wanted to take a road trip to the Land of Nowhere (again) anytime soon.

"So...," said Kimiko slowly. "What're we going to say when we get there?'"

Silence followed, in which one could actually hear them thinking. Finally, a suggestion surfaced.

"We must be open with him," said Omi simply. "That is all we can do."

"...I guess that means the Bashing-Jack's-Face-into-the-Wall option is out?" said Raimundo. Stifled snickers followed this statement, though Omi tsked disapprovingly before showing amusement.

Looking back slightly, Kimiko could've sworn that an annoyed expression crossed the Brazilian's eyes, as though he'd heard something that had irritated him. She blinked, feeling confused, and looked around; the Japanese girl hadn't heard Omi misuse slang or Clay say a particularly confusing saying. And she knew that _she_ hadn't said anything...

Giving him a measured look, Kimiko said, "You okay, Rai?"

Raimundo blinked, shook his head as though to bring himself to the present, and managed to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. "Fine, Kim; why do you ask?"

Feeling her confusion starting to show in her eyes, Kimiko opened her mouth, but Omi spoke first. "She asks because she is most concerned for you, Raimundo."

Jumping, Kimiko realized that Omi's voice had sourced from right next to her ear, and looking around she saw that her small friend had leaned in, as though this were a fierce debate on the best martial arts moves. Out of the corner of her eye, Kimiko noted the somewhat mortified expression Raimundo was giving Omi, and the tiny smirk that was now gracing Clay's face. Quite suddenly, Kimiko felt she'd been thrown from the loop. "Well, yeah I'm concerned-"

"Oh, you need not say anything," Omi interrupted reassuringly, patting her hand gently. However, Kimiko was far from reassured. He looked at her intently with his dark eyes. "After all, with the way you feel for him, it is most normal for you to be so worried."

For a miniscule second, Kimiko felt that Omi was actually going somewhere with that sentence. But then reason kicked in and quickly punted whatever idea it was out of her head. Meanwhile, Raimundo was looking quite ready and willing to start pulling Omi's teeth out one by one. Somewhere in her mind, Kimiko knew that maybe she should try and calm the situation.

But forever the peacemaker, it was Clay that spoke next. "Maybe we should drop it, pardners. We're getting close to Spicer's place."

"Cowboy's right," broke in Dojo's voice unexpectedly. "It's coming up on the horizon."

Resignedly, Omi settled back into position, though Kimiko could still feel Raimundo's intense glare singing her hair as it fixed itself on Omi's head. Kimiko had half a mind to ask one of the boys just exactly what it was she'd just witnessed, but it seemed that all she could do at the moment was sit and blink in confusion, which didn't clear until the mansion Jack Spicer lived in came to view and the incident was shoved to the back of her mind.

After Dojo had landed and after a few moments of prying the door open, the foursome found themselves, once again, in the dark recesses of what Jack liked to call home. And even though they already knew that Jack was a weirdo, that didn't make what they were seeing any less unusual.

Jack, whimpering and yelping, was scrambling around the place, grabbing parts old and new and shoving them together, building Jackbots as fast as he could. Apparently he'd been at it for a while because an already large host of Jackbots were floating around, ready and waiting; yet Jack didn't seem even the slightest bit comforted. So absorbed was he that he didn't even notice when the door slammed open. Though by all accounts, from the way he was acting, Jack should've been clinging to the ceiling by now.

Exchanging a look, the friends sipped quietly down the stairs to where Jack was still plowing away, whimpering nonsensical words they doubted even he understood. Moments passed, and they stood there, waiting for Jack to notice his long-time enemies standing like perfect statues behind him. When he didn't even look back once, Raimundo glanced around at his companions, leaned forward so that his head was mere centimeters from Jack's, and coughed.

The already ear-blowing girlish scream was amplified to skull-fracturing proportions within the uncarpeted basement that served as Jack's solitude. That, or Jack was just more on edge than usual. After leaping into the air, the redhead was immediately on his knees, hugging Raimundo around the legs so tightly that the boy was certain his shins were going to break. This accomplished, Jack exclaimed his well-known cry of, "I SURRENDER! Don't kill me! I swear, whatever it was you think I was going to do, I won't do it, promise!"

"...Wow," remarked Kimiko in the blank silence that followed. "Usually we have to look at each other before this happens."

For the first time, Jack opened his eyes and looked at who was visiting. After a few seconds of blinking up at them, he leapt to his feet and brushed himself off, saying, "I knew that."

Raimundo bit back a laugh. "Sure, dude. It's nice to know you won't be fighting."

Jack blinked. "Huh?"

"You surrendered," Clay reminded him.

"...Oh; yeah," said Jack, frowning in thought. Kimiko could've sworn she smelled burning, but that could've been anything from the cooling Jackbot to the familiar warmth settling around her fingers.

"Anyway," said Omi, looking around curiously. "Why are you building Jackbots as if there isn't any yesterday?"

"It's 'no tomorrow' Omi," corrected Raimundo.

Omi blinked. "That makes no sense."

Kimiko just managed to catch Raimundo grumbling under his breath, "It makes a lot more sense than 'isn't any yesterday'." She tried not to giggle, but a tiny noise came from her and Raimundo gave her a glance. When she winked at him, he grinned in return.

"So; the Jackbots?" probed Clay.

Jack stared unintelligently at the cowboy for a few moments; then he blinked, and it seemed to dawn on him. "Oh! Well-" Suddenly he broke off with a confused expression, and then crossed his arms and turned to the side, giving them a degrading look. "What's it to you? Can't an evil genius build his robots?"

Kimiko shrugged. "Well, sure. You just seemed a little more frantic than usual."

"That's what happens when someone wants you dead." For some odd reason, Jack seemed smug about this. Kimiko wondered vaguely if he'd finally snapped due to his current lifestyle when he smirked at his visitors' dumbfounded expressions. "Yeah, that's right! Someone wants me dead!" Suddenly he started dancing around triumphantly, singing, "Someone wants me deeaad, and no one wants yoouu. I'm more important -"

Instead of following the impulse of punching Jack in his idiotic face, Kimiko released her frustration by tripping him instead, which caused him to get his nose hurt anyway. "Yeah. Y'know, that's not much of a good thing."

Still flat on the ground, Jack mumbled an unintelligible reply. Strangely, no one cared.

"Soo..." Kimiko squatted onto the ground next to him. "Who wants you dead?"

Jack dazedly raised his head, shook it, and shifted into a more comfortable position for talking while still on his stomach. "I dunno, really; I was listening in on them with my bug." He motioned towards a pair of earphones, which seemed to have been thrown off a hysterical boy's head, judging by its position. "Don't bother trying to test it out; the guys who were talking found the bug and broke it."

"I bet that hurt," remarked Raimundo.

"Not really," Jack replied absentmindedly. Seeing the looks his enemies were giving him, he said, "What? An evil genius always makes sure that his ears won't get hurt when he's eavesdropping."

"How'd you pull that off?" asked Kimiko.

Jack shrugged conspiratorially. "Meh, it's too technical. _Some_ of you wouldn't understand." He looked pointedly at Clay when he said this, who only glared stonily back. "Uh, anyway, some guy and his cat were talking-"

Whatever Jack was expecting, it wasn't his visitors suddenly looking extremely interested. "A guy?" said Kimiko.

"And a cat?" added Omi, wide-eyed.

Taken aback by the sudden intensity, the self-proclaimed Dark Prince of the Universe recoiled slightly, and nodded.

"Well, what were they talking about?" probed Clay.

When he next spoke, Jack was starting to stammer. "W-well, Thingy cut Whoever off before he could say anything really interesting, but apparently Thingy's scared of me."

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then the room was alive with the echoes of loud laughter. But Jack took this in stride.

"Yeah; that was Whoever's response."

They immediately sobered.

"A-anyway,' said Jack, "I didn't hear what was so scary about me to Thingy... I couldn't understand a word coming from his mouth."

Kimiko rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. He's a cat." For a second, she was almost certain that Raimundo stiffened a little, but when she looked at him his face was impassive. Casting it aside as her imagination playing tricks on her, she turned her attention back to Jack.

"So...that's all that you can tell us?" said Raimundo disappointedly.

Jack shrugged. "Pretty much."

Collective groans were echoed through group.

"But, but!" said Jack suddenly, lifting an index finger. "My dad might! Oh, but-" His face fell. "-he's out of town..."

Five minutes and much persuading later, the group managed to escape Jack's lair, all agreeing on one thing:

"Well, that was a complete waste of time," grumbled Kimiko. The boys grunted their agreement.

"...And even if his dad did know anything," muttered Raimundo, "how would we be able to get a meeting with him?"

"From what I hear, he's real high class," said Clay. He glanced at Kimiko. "Your dad and Frederick Spicer were acquainted, weren't they, Kimiko?"

Kimiko stopped dead in her tracks, the wheels in her brain turning. "Yeah..."

* * *

Jack had already settled back into the many clanks of putting Jackbots together. He nearly flew through the roof when Kimiko burst into the room like a hailstorm, a little out of breath and a light in her eyes.

"Jack! You said your dad's out of town?"

"Y-yes..." Jack stared fearfully at the somewhat deranged looking Kimiko.

"Well, do you think you could inform us when he gets back in town?" she said, excited as ever.

The redhead blinked slowly at her. "Uh... sure..."

Kimiko beamed at him. "Great! Thanks, Jack!" And she sped from the room as quickly as she'd come, leaving Jack Spicer to sit among his machines, blinking stupidly and wondering just what the heck had happened.

* * *

The rhythm of the ocean waves was calming.

Here, in a cave right in the cliff wall, sitting on the brim of the ledge was exhilarating and soothing. Far below, the steady crash of water seemed like the breathing of the world... A steady beat to a tune you truly had to listen for.

It was here that Brant meditated, mere centimeters from falling to the merciless pounding beneath. He cleared himself of all thought, all emotion, and allowed himself to become one with the never ending sound, punctuated by the distant and not so distant cries of wheeling seagulls. ...It was peaceful.

But without fail, a pair of dark eyes flashed through his mind.

Eyes snapping open, Brant was almost startled by the amazing hue of the sky. A setting sun was turning the endless water and sky bright orange, setting everything afire. Fire... fed by wind, killed by water, and both fed and killed by earth.

Struggling to swallow the brief flare of anger that the memory of the eyes brought, Brant stood, still not looking into the cave. Pushing all thoughts that would cause him anger, he instead focused on the things that had passed since that afternoon. He had been slightly surprised to find Spicer's bug in Wraith's paw, but it didn't matter, really. He saw Wraith's point, but the question was, did Spicer? Admittedly, the wannabe-Goth wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but Brant knew he'd be an idiot to overlook him. In this particular game he and his cohort had gotten themselves into, _everything_ counted.

For example: the two in the cave behind him.

A smile spread across his lips, and he turned to look at the dark skinned fourteen-year-olds bound together at the back of the cave. He and Wraith had stumbled (literally) upon them just beyond the Xiaolin Temple, obviously exhausted from a journey they weren't used to. But it had been obvious what their destination was; and in this situation, Wraith wasn't one to take chances.

They were supposed to be unconscious, and he could tell they were trying to appear as such, but their breathing was too fast for them to not be awake.

"You can quit acting now," said Brant. He received no reply. "Oh, come on; what's the use in pretending to be unconscious if the one you're trying to fool already knows you're awake?"

There was the tiniest of shifts from the girl; however, the boy didn't react at all. But Brant could still tell he was awake.

_He's been trained..._ Brant thought silently. _But not enough._

Deciding that the boy would be harder to crack, he turned to the girl.

"You, girl," he said, his tone unquestionable. "Look at me."

Her head rose a little, just enough that he could see the hazel eyes looking up at his face. Next to her, the boy shifted.

Brant glanced briefly at him, but only for a second. "What were you and your friend doing in the area of the Xiaolin Temple?" he demanded; direct approach first. If that didn't work, he had other ways to wheedle it out of them, one or the other.

The girl, like before, did not answer him, and instead turned her head back into its previous position. For the few moments it took for this action to take place, Brant was sure he saw a spark of defiance in her eyes. _Spirit_, he noted, and felt a gush of approval.

He then became aware of Wraith's presence at the cave entrance, and he turned just in time to see the thetishakan land on light paws on the ledge. He knew the question in his companion's eyes before the words were spoken.

"They won't say anything," he informed Wraith as the cat-like creature walked calmly over. "Same as before."

"Yes...," said Wraith, sitting back on his haunches as his eyes studied the pair. "I suppose not."

"Spirit," Brant remarked.

Wraith nodded in agreement. "I can smell it in them. And..." He blinked, and a curiously amused look came to his expression. "...interesting..."

Looking at Brant's quizzical look, the cat smiled and crept over to the boy, who seemed to shudder a little when the carnivore's breath brushed against him. "You have been to Chase Young."

Brant's eyebrows flew upward. "Young?" _Of course...who else?_

"...But other than that..." Wraith turned back to Brant. "This one is not a Chosen."

"Pity," Brant remarked vaguely. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, unidentifiable and aloof, as to not be deciphered. He glanced at Wraith, who met his gaze for a long moment, thoughts being shared silently with each other. Then the cat motioned away from the two with his tail, and the mismatched pair walked to the ledge to discuss things. As they walked, Brant heard the whispery echoes of a short conversation.

"You scared, girl?"

"...In all honesty, yes."

The boy chuckled quietly. "Yeah; me too."

"How do you think we'll get out of this?"

There was a small pause. "...I don't know. But we will. If no one else, my pals will get us out of this."

"...I hope so."

* * *

Pain.

It had crept up so unnoticeably: just a tickling sensation at her fingertips, and then it prickled, spreading down to her wrists, and then something like a numbed headache spreading down through her arms, until her entire body seemed to have been attacked by fire she couldn't control. She could _feel_ the green flames attacking her own, pushing through... it hurt so much...

Then she plunged into darkness, a lone fiery comet streaking towards the ground, green eyes watching her every inch of the way-

And Kimiko Tohomiko awoke in a cold sweat.

Sitting bolt upright, she looked around the darkened room. As usual, the boys were sound asleep in positions Kimiko couldn't help but wonder about. But the calm breathing was soothing to her still madly pounding heart.

Breathing deeply, Kimiko passed a shaking hand over her eyes. She could feel the fear still seeping through her veins, quietly constant. And feeling scared made her feel angry. Feeling angry made her want to hit something.

And that wouldn't go over well with her sleeping comrades.

With a sigh, Kimiko swung her legs over the side of the bed, deciding that a walk would do her good. Her feet almost immediately found her slippers, and, with a small yawn, she shuffled out the hall, towards the kitchen. The moon was bright above, the navy sky dotted with tiny pinpricks of light and the occasional cloud. She gave it all a brief look, and then continued to the kitchen. Upon reaching it, she was surprised to find it wasn't empty.

Raimundo, smiley-face pajamas and all, had made a sandwich for himself, and was currently in mid-bite. When she entered the room, there was a moment in which the two merely looked at each other, as though they were both surprised the other was there. Then Kimiko blinked and walked over to the cupboard to grab a cup. "You shouldn't eat so much at night," she commented. The Dragon of Wind replied with a half-hearted shrug.

Filling her glass with milk and grabbing a napkin, she sat down opposite of Raimundo, placing the glass on the wood and staring intently at him. After several moments passed, and Kimiko didn't look away, Raimundo began to feel uncomfortable and asked her, "What; is there something on my face?"

Kimiko raised an eyebrow. "You really want me to answer that?"

Exasperated, Raimundo rolled his eyes. "Fine; what is it?"

"Nothing," said Kimiko simply with a shrug. "Just wondering about a few things."

"Yeah, well...," Raimundo mumbled into his sandwich. He took another bite and chewed on it for a little while, allowing the silence to cover them. Kimiko said nothing, but just looked at the wood, and taking the occasional sip from her glass. In the back of her mind, Kimiko realized that this was pretty abnormal. Here she was, at one in the morning, sitting across from Raimundo Pedrosa, a boy who was rarely seen awake in the night after falling asleep. And not only that, but he was actually subdued. She shook her head; maybe it was just that it was really early in the morning. (Or was it late at night?)

Finally, Raimundo swallowed his mouthful and cocked his head to the side, eyes curious. "How'd that happen?"

Kimiko blinked up at him. "How'd what happen?"

"That...," he said while pointing at her hand. "That burn..."

Blinking a few more times, Kimiko looked at the hand in question, and saw Raimundo was right: it looked as though it had been burned. Nothing serious, but...

_How _did_ that happen?_ Kimiko wondered. A flicker of worry penetrated her mind. Was she actually losing hold of her fire powers? If not... then what was it?

For a reason she couldn't comprehend, she looked up at Raimundo, up into his concerned eyes, and saw that he was thinking the same thing she was. And in an instant, Kimiko felt relieved that someone was as concerned about it as she was.

Then quite unexpectedly, a playful smirk broke across his features. "Having a little trouble with your element these days?" the Brazilian teased. Kimiko replied to this by rolling up her napkin and throwing it at the boy; it bounced off of his nose, and after looking pointedly at Kimiko he pulled a theatrically scandalized face. The expression was so comical that Kimiko couldn't help but laugh.

A part of Kimiko knew that she should have been insulted, but, surprising herself, she wasn't. Maybe it was just that since someone could laugh about the situation, it couldn't be all bad. Raimundo joking about it caused a flicker of hope to rise up within her: the hope that this _would_ pass, and fade in time into a speck on her memory.

"There: something to use when you've finished that sandwich," she said smartly, taking another swig of her milk.

Raimundo glowered playfully at Kimiko, but all it did was cause her to nearly choke on her drink. "I don't need a napkin."

"Uh, yes, you do," said Kimiko. After downing the rest of her milk, she got up to wash the cup, saying, "If you leave that mess, Master Guan will have your head." As she took the washcloth to the cup, Kimiko glanced at her friend and saw that she need not say more.

While drying the cup, Kimiko found herself lagging. In a strange way, she didn't want to leave the kitchen. The atmosphere Raimundo had created was so peaceful that the Japanese girl felt she could have stayed there all night. For once since all the out-of-the-ordinary (or at least, as ordinary as it got when you were a Shen-Gong-Wu collector) things had started, there was a moment for thought, just a brief speck of time to breathe.

And then her cup couldn't be dried any more, and she reluctantly placed it back in the cupboard. However, when she turned and started out the door, the scraping of a chair and Raimundo's voice stopped her.

"Kimi?"

Kimiko immediately stopped and turned around. The Brazilian was standing, and had taken a few steps towards her; she was surprised to see him looking sober. "Yeah, Rai?"

Suddenly Raimundo seemed a little uncomfortable. He looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet a little and rubbing the back of his neck. "...I'm – sorry I bit your head off the other day."

Something clicked in her brain which she'd forgotten, and she realized that she couldn't meet her friend's eyes. "Yeah...," said Kimiko quietly. "Me, too." When he looked at her curiously, she added, "Today."

There was a small silence, and then they both started talking at once.

"I didn't know how to explain-"

"I was kinda spooked-"

"I was still really confused-"

"Same here."

The pause came again, and an intangible tension seemed to settle between the two. It was then that something began to nag at her again, a detail that had been bugging her all day. At last, it wouldn't stay silent. Uncomfortable as ever, Kimiko mumbled, "Thanks – for catching me."

She heard more than saw Raimundo shrug. "No problem." Looking up at him, Kimiko briefly saw a foreign softness in his emerald eyes, and felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. Realizing that the color was in her face, Kimiko clasped her hands behind her back and turned her gaze from his again.

"Well...goodnight, Rai," she said, glancing around a little embarrassedly. "Are you coming?"

Raimundo shook his head. "No. I'm not really tired at the moment... Besides," he added quickly, "I've got to finish the sandwich..."

Kimiko shrugged, turning around to head back to bed. "Suit yourself."

Raimundo said nothing more, but the Japanese girl was sure that his eyes had followed her until she was out of sight.

It wasn't until she was creeping back into the bedroom that Kimiko fully realized that she'd been blushing (_blushing_, for crying out loud!) around Raimundo Pedrosa. _Now why'd that happen?_

_...Because I felt safe in his gaze?_

She closed her eyes. It was just Raimundo... Stupid Rai...

_Then...why's my heart pounding?_

With a small growl, the girl tried to dismiss it all while climbing back into bed. But there was still one last question before she drifted off to sleep:

Was it because that, deep down, she actually _liked_ being held by Raimundo?

* * *

"You can do it...just don't look back..."

Brant became aware of the conversation again, and realized that he was coming in late. His eyes narrowed.

"I...I don't think I can, J."

"You can!" whispered the boy's voice bracingly. "All you have to do is keep going; don't stop until you collapse. You're fast, girl, you can do this..."

"I won't leave you behind."

"You're gonna to have to. On my signal-"

"You're coming with me and-"

"You know the plan-"

"J, I won't-"

"GO!"

Suddenly, the two broke loose of their bonds, and Brant just barely managed to dodge the boy flying at him. He chanced a look at Wraith just in time to see the girl slip away with a kick at the feline; Wraith went for pursuit but the boy clung to his tail. Brant went after the girl but was tripped by the boy knocking the feet out from under him.

Thus almost a minute passed in a whirling, screaming, snarling cloud of dust, fur, and fists. Finally the boy ended up pinned firmly by Brant and Wraith, all three of them out of breath.

Wraith glowered down at the boy. "Where is the girl headed towards?"

When the boy didn't answer, Brant restated the question. "Where's she going?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know," growled the boy through a mouthful of dirt and rock.

Brant noted the look in Wraith's eyes and swiftly moved out of the way moments before the thetishakan flipped the boy over onto his back. Wraith glared into the boy's dark eyes, but the youth only shut his eyes firmly against the glare. With a snarl, Wraith batted the boy back into the cave, and said, "In the future, we shall need to keep an eye on prisoners at all times."

"That's assuming we trust anyone with the responsibility," muttered Brant.

Wraith looked at him, eyes narrowed. "I mean no disrespect to you, Brant, but your race is filled with bumbling fools and half-brained twits. The types we require are rare and few, compared to the civilization that lives upon this planet."

Brant returned Wraith's look calmly. "Did I ever imply that I didn't already know this?"

For a moment the cat just stared at him, and then something a bit like an amused smirk came to light. "I do not recall you ever truly praising your people."

"Do we bother to go after the girl?" asked Brant quietly, but knowing the answer.

As expected, Wraith shook his head. "She must be too far away to bother with now."

Brant nodded, and turned to look outside. The moonlight reflected on the never ending water, casting silver in dark navy blue.

"Curse it to Wuya."

* * *

_Ignore the cold. Ignore the leaves. Ignore the twigs. Ignore the distant calls of birds and animals. Ignore the fear. Ignore the ache in your legs and feet. Ignore the fact that you are leaving him behind._

_Ignore, ignore, ignore._

The girl repeated this to herself, running blindly through the dark trees, a quite night with the exception of her crashing through. Forestry and startled animals flashed by her in a blur. Nothing registered with her mind. She repeated the mantra to herself; she remained focused on what she had to do.

_You have to find Master Fung. You have to tell him._

As the moon rose in the sky to shine light through leafy boughs and she ran further and further, she didn't care about the distance. She didn't care if she had to run a thousand miles before she reached the Xiaolin Temple. She was going, and running, and finding Master Fung.

_For J; for the hope of seeing 'Maine again - alive…_

The thought of what they might do to him caused a bolt of panic to shove speed into her feet and blinding tears to block her eyes. And the next thing she knew, there was pain in her foot and she was flat on the ground, gasping for air.

Forcing her arms to push herself up, she looked around to see what had tripped her, and spotted an up-grown tree root; she rolled her eyes. _Of course._ But now that she was stopped, she realized a very important fact: she had no idea where she was.

Springing to her feet, the girl looked around, panic settling in her heart as she tried to keep breathing. Not only was she lost in the woods at night, but she was also lost in the woods at night with a very important message that needed to be delivered A.S.A.P.

She didn't know much at that moment, but she did know that this sucked in the worst kind of way.

And then, as though through divine intervention, she heard voices a little way off. After freezing for a moment and looking in their direction, she felt hope surge through her, revitalizing her weary limbs, and sped off again.

She knew that she must have been quite a sight to the trio of hikers, bursting out of nowhere, completely disheveled, and grinning like a maniac, but she didn't care. Momentarily blinded by the startled groups' flashlights, the girl blinked through the colorful dots that obscured her vision and looked at the threesome's identically dumbfounded faces, jaws hanging and eyes large.

"Hi!" she panted, trying to catch her breath. "Do- do any of you know where I can get to the Xiaolin Temple? It's urgent- _very_ urgent."

After a few seconds of the group mouthing wordlessly at her, one of them said, "We could get you there; it shouldn't take long if we hurry."

The other two stared at their third companion as though he'd just said he could sprout wings and fly. But the girl didn't mind in the least; she beamed joyfully at him.

"That'd be great! Thanks!"

Then the remaining pair blinked back at the girl, and one of them, a roughly sixteen-year-old girl, asked, "Do you have a name?"

She nodded. "Aderyn."

* * *

**Okay, that was shorter than my other chapters. But bear with me here, people!**

**How did I do with the kitchen scene? If Raimundo seems a little OOC, it's because I'd originally planned it to be between Kimiko and Jack. But it seemed like Kimi was being a little too friendly with Mr. Spicer, so I changed it to Rai (with some editing, of course.)**

**So... Review! Please! Pretty please!**


	11. Cause for Concern

**Disclaimer:** Haruki: Calistar still doesn't own anything; nothing but a few characters and two Wu.

A/N: Haruki: IT'S ALIVE! IT'S ALIVE!

Shut up, Haruki.

ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS

**me:** Welcome! And thanks. :)

**Ali:** 1.) I know; but it was part of a storyline I was taking at the time, and suddenly I found it was too early to take that direction. 2.) YAY! Someone liked Jack's little dance! (I was worried about it...) 3.) J and A are, as of yet, unacquainted with Haruki. Chase? Wraith smelled something from a while ago (see Chapter Six.) – Thanks!

I _so_ don't deserve you guys! It's been – well, a long time! – since I last updated. O.o Yeek. I never really expected anyone to stick with me so long... –bursts into tears; Haruki hands her a tissue–

* * *

_Prophecy_  
A _Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction  
Written by Calistar Heir

**Chapter Eleven: Cause for Concern**

Master Fung had seen a great many things in his life, and a large variety of people. He'd met children of single parentage, children with both parents still around, and orphans. He'd conversed with wise men, both young and old, and consulted with sagely women. He had reasoned with fools, laughed with the laughing, comforted the distressed, healed the sick and injured, and watched new mothers die in childbirth. He had seen all kinds of magic; he'd watched elements bend and shift to another's will, and had many a long conversation with a shape-shifting dragon.

Needless to say, he felt that there was little left in the mortal world that could surprise him, no matter how his students had proved him wrong time and again.

And yet the young girl in the bed before him was one more surprise he had not expected.

She'd shown up at the gates just minutes ago, completely out of breath and on the verge of collapsing. But still she'd remained on her feet, insisting through gasps of air that she had a message to convey, and she'd only lain down when they'd dragged her into the room. Once she'd regained her breath, she began insisting that she get up.

"Please, I'm fine now," she said firmly, trying to escape Master Fung's grip on her shoulder; her skin was dark, and she looked a bit ragged, as though she hadn't been able to actually relax in several days. But her eyes were a shining hazel; her very _soul _seemed to shine from those eyes. They made her seem to be thriving with energy, and it was very hard to say no to them.

But Master Fung had years of dealing with youth and knew every trick in the book. He was not fooled.

"Young lady," he said calmly, "you have run a very long way and for a very long time, and if I'm not mistaken, you haven't slept in some time, either."

Hazel eyes widened, and the girl averted her gaze, almost ashamedly.

Master Fung gave her the smile he'd often fixed his student's with and placed a gentle hand on hers. "Whatever this 'important news' is, we can take care of it," he assured her. The eyes flicked back to his, uncertain. "Aderyn, was it?"

She her eyes darted around uncomfortably before she nodded.

"Tell me, Aderyn: What is it you have run so far for?"

For a moment, Aderyn stared at her sheets, almost in contemplation. When she looked back up, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"We didn't even see them... One moment we're camping out, the next... we're somewhere else entirely..."

"'We'?" echoed Master Fung, leaning in just slightly. "Who were you traveling with?"

"...'Maine. Jermaine." She shook her head, lips pressed together.

A cold shiver worked its way up Master Fung's spine, up to his head where it stayed, numbing him for a second. He quickly regained composure. "Jermaine?"

"He said he had friends here; we were – on our way here... He told me to leave him behind, that only one of us could escape..." One tear began to slip down her cheek, and she brushed it away, brusquely. She then fixed the older monk with a piercingly determined expression. "We have to save him."

That went without saying, but Master Fung only nodded and stood, not stopping Aderyn this time when she threw off the sheets and followed. He needed to get in contact with Master Monk Guan and his students; they would be particularly distressed from this bit of news. He was almost to the door when Aderyn's voice stopped him.

"There's something else."

Master Fung turned and looked at her patiently, head slightly tilting to the side.

"Our captors – they were talking about something important – at least we _thought_ it was important, because they were talking pretty quiet, but I caught a few words."

"Oh?"

Aderyn nodded, and then frowned as she summoned up the memory. "Something about – stealing a fountain..."

Fung _almost_ blinked. "...A fountain."

"Yeah... And an eagle."

Within the recesses of his mind, Master Fung was aware of a distinct feeling of alarm at the combination of the words. A fountain and an eagle? Or perhaps she meant...

He shook himself mentally, preventing himself from going into a panic. Now was not the time to jump to unfounded conclusions. That message could mean anything. ...But it wouldn't hurt to be a little cautious.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

Master Fung looked at Aderyn's inquiring features, her eyes intently curious.

"We must summon the young Dragons back," he murmured, and walked out the door. Aderyn remained frozen where she stood for a minute, mildly confused by the old man's reaction, but soon hurried after. She caught sight of him turning a corner and rushed towards him, marveling at how he could move so fast.

The turn found her outside, and she blinked around, trying to spot Master Fung. After a few moments, she saw him entering a building not too far away, and headed towards it. However, a few steps and she rammed into something and found herself on her back. Aderyn groaned, and was surprised to hear another voice doing the same. Eyes blinking open, she sat up, and stared at the person she'd run into.

He looked no older than herself, pale-skinned with black markings beneath his red eyes, and a pair of swirling yellow goggles perched atop his red, wild-haired head. His overall look was Goth, and a bag was on the ground next to him.

For a moment, neither said anything. Then, in perfect unison, they exclaimed,

"Who the heck are _you_?"

* * *

"Rough night?" 

Raimundo looked worriedly at Kimiko, though trying to remain casual. Kimiko's bleary eyes, the crystal blue dulled today, turned toward him, and she gave her fellow Dragon an obviously forced smile.

"Fine, Rai," said Kimiko. She probably would have said more, but she was cut off by a huge yawn. Haruki made a small noise that Raimundo couldn't identify.

'What kept _her_ up last night?' the falcon wondered.

_Dunno, bird-dude; wasn't awake myself._

In response, Haruki gave a small "Hmmm..." and was quiet for a little while. Raimundo couldn't help but get a little antsy when the bird did this, firstly because he always felt more pronouncedly that Haruki was keeping something big secret, and secondly because he was never sure if Haruki was doing it just to be mysterious. (The Dragon wouldn't put it past him.) Trying to get his mind off of it, he focused on his scrambled eggs.

Just behind his pile of pancakes, which were practically oozing syrup, Omi's head slid into view, eyes darting between the Dragons of Wind and Fire. Raimundo looked up in suspicion, and was almost certain he heard a faint rustle, like pages in a book. The little monk looked as though he were about to speak, but he caught Raimundo's glare and vanished once more behind his breakfast without a word – for once.

This taken care of, Raimundo promptly tried to tune out Haruki's chuckling by getting a particularly annoying song stuck in his head.

Meanwhile, Kimiko, tired as she was, didn't take note of the whole exchange. "Clay, could you pass the milk?" she asked the cowboy wearily.

Clay, who had just sat down with his own virtual mountain of breakfast, cheerfully handed the jug of milk to her, although his eyes didn't entirely hide his concern. He glanced questioningly at Raimundo, who shrugged, indicating that he had no clue of his own.

"Mail's here!"

Everyone but Omi turned to Dojo, who was slithering into the room with a few notes in his claws. (Omi had stopped paying attention to this time of the day a long time ago, and merely continued to shovel pancake into his mouth.)

Raimundo was hardly surprised when the majority of the letters came to him, which Dojo commented on almost snidely. Looking through them, he recognized the handwritings to be from various family members, and he smiled quietly to himself. Then he paused, a thought coming to mind.

'I don't.'

Raimundo jumped (unnoticeably, he hoped) at Haruki's voice; then he remembered that the two still hadn't found a way to block Raimundo's thoughts from the falcon, and couldn't help but feel a little bitter about not being able to pry into _his _mind.

_No family whatsoever?_ Raimundo couldn't help but ask.

'...None that I know of...'

Haruki's tone was casual, but the Brazilian knew a touchy subject when he saw one and wisely dropped it. This was made all the easier when he realized there was someone standing beside him; he looked around, but saw no one there.

'Try looking down,' Haruki suggested. Ignoring the apparent sarcasm, Raimundo did so, and saw Omi peering curiously at the unopened envelopes.

For a moment, he didn't react.

"You want something?" the Brazilian asked abruptly.

Omi jumped, but grinned at his friend all the same. "I am simply intrigued by these letters. Especially this one," he added, holding up one of the incredulous-faced Raimundo's letters and lifting an appraising eyebrow at it. "Whoever wrote this one is most unskilled at writing-"

"_Thank you_," Raimundo snapped, snatching the letter back. Omi's eyebrows rose upwards in reaction, but he trotted back to his seat, a hole being burnt into the back of his skull from Raimundo's death glare.

'Well, can you blame him for being a bit curious-?'

You _stay out of this._

'Someone's touchy,' said Haruki, falsely reproachful, but he quieted.

"Who's it from, anyway?" asked Clay casually before taking a huge bite out of his breakfast.

Raimundo already knew, but he looked at it anyway before answering. "Clare."

There was a choking noise, and everyone turned to see Kimiko, clutching her glass and coughing up a storm. Raimundo's eyebrows rose; even Haruki seemed a bit bewildered, for he remained unusually silent.

When she'd regained control, Kimiko looked up and said hoarsely, "What? Who's Clare?"

Where in name of Dashi was all that snickering coming from?

"She's my niece," Raimundo explained blankly. Oddly enough, he found himself looking determinedly away from his other friends.

Kimiko didn't even twitch while this seemed to process in her tired mind. Then, abruptly, she went back to brooding over her glass of milk, and Raimundo began to wonder just what was tickling Haruki to make him carry on so.

_Dude... did you swallow a feather-duster or something?_

That only seemed to make him laugh harder, so Raimundo sighed in defeat and tried to ignore it as before.

It was then that something caught the Brazilian's eye. An envelope lay in front of Clay – unopened. Raimundo found this rather odd: Clay usually wasted no time in reading a letter from home, and the Wind Dragon doubted that even the free show he was getting from the antics of Omi, Kimiko, and Raimundo himself would deter him from opening a note. Why the sudden hesitancy?

"Yo, Clay: something wrong?"

Clay blinked at being addressed, and looked sideways at Raimundo. "Nothin' wrong; why d'you ask?"

Raimundo indicated the envelope. "Unopened letter," he explained.

The cowboy glanced down, and, seeing the letter, looked as though he'd just noticed it for the first time. Hastily he picked it up.

"Oh, that; it's nothin', just family news," he said dismissively, stowing the note into his robes. "Really," he added, as though he thought Raimundo didn't believe him.

The former circus-star didn't; in fact, he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew who the letter was from, but thought it would be a bit taboo to mention it at the moment. If Clay had wanted to bring attention to the matter, he would have.

He jumped very slightly when Haruki asked, 'Who's this girl you're thinking of?'

Raimundo almost started to reply, but he noted that Master Monk Guan was walking towards them with the I-have-important-news expression Master Fung had given them multiple times. The way he saw it, that most likely meant that, yet again, it was time for an "End of the World" announcement of some type. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and rested his elbow on the tabletop.

Explanations would have to wait.

_...I'll tell you later._

As expected, Guan stopped just in front of them, and the four quieted and gave him their immediate attention. This accomplished, he raised an eyebrow at Raimundo's posture.

"Just lay it on me, Guanster," said Raimundo dully, waving his hand in a "bring it on" motion.

"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming," replied Guan, unfazed. He looked around at the four Dragons. "We have just received word from Master Fung; he requires that you return to your previous temple soon."

Before anyone could react, there was a strange noise, and suddenly Dojo was clinging to the back of Clay's chair, staring at Guan as though he didn't believe his ears. "You mind repeating that?"

"...Master Fung requires that you return to the previous temple?"

There was a whoosh of air, and Dojo had disappeared entirely, leaving behind a faint breeze and a blank silence.

After a minute, Kimiko, blinking back her tiredness, looked at Guan. "Did he say why he wants us back so suddenly?"

"It does seem to be a bit out from the green," added Omi. Raimundo rolled his eyes and rested his forehead against clasped hands, as though in prayer.

Guan shook his head. "He felt that it would be best that you received the details in person. I myself won't know until you have left."

"...I guess that makes some sort of sense...," mumbled Kimiko drowsily.

A gust of wind announced Dojo's return; the dragon was clutching a suitcase and his little Master Fung plush toy.

"So; when do we leave?"

* * *

Chase stood over his tiger, expressionless. The enslaved warrior hadn't been healing well; the wounds weren't closing as fast as they should have been. Even now, the fresh bandages were being stained red. The tiger simply lay there, sides heaving with pain as it slept fitfully. 

The tiniest frown creased his face. For the first time in a while, Chase was being plagued by a small undercurrent of concern. Normally he wouldn't have been _too_ shaken in this situation, but when his crow had returned the other day, confused and disoriented, it was obvious that it had been compromised somehow. The strange events that were occurring lately could only have been from a powerful source; but what kind, he wasn't sure...

Still, he was almost certain he knew someone who was in on it.

Chase grimaced with displeasure when a different presence approached, and Wuya's voice greeted him.

"Still no change?" The Heylin Witch didn't even try to fake some concern in her voice.

Neutralizing his face, Chase stated, "There has been very little progress, but at least he's sleeping."

"I didn't think of you as the type to be concerned about your servants," said Wuya coyly, eyes narrowing with a smirk.

"I'm waiting to receive information," said Chase, expertly hiding his annoyance. "This warrior must have seen his attacker, who obviously went after the Xiaolin Warriors, and has been causing all this trouble lately."

Chase didn't need to turn around to know Wuya's eyebrows had risen impassively. "Are you worried?"

The fallen warrior turned calmly around, and fixed his cohort with a cool, drilling stare. With a small pang of satisfaction, he saw intimidation flickering behind Wuya's swirling green eyes. "Do I look worried to you?" he asked softly, a tiny smirk curving his lips.

Too late to hide her fear, the witch's face hardened into a stony look. "No."

"Then I'm not worried." With that, and a final brief glance at his tiger, Chase brushed past Wuya and exited, silent with his own thoughts.

* * *

A shout; the sound of a fist hitting wood. 

Axel leapt back, eyeing the post.

From a safe distance away, Kayin watched her older brother in silence. In the constant state of calm she resided in, the nine year old felt a rush of approval: Axel was getting much better, she reflected, watching as he continued practicing. He'd started training roughly two years previously, which puzzled their mother, for he'd never shown interest in it before.

Kayin's eyes narrowed just slightly; somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew the reason:

Brant.

Her expression did not change, effectively hiding the distress she felt at the thought of her eldest brother. Kayin had very few memories of Brant, which more like impressions: dark eyes, laughter, joy, a small smile, anger, resentment...

Blinking, she shook her head. When it came to remembering Brant, it always turned into a confused whirlwind of emotion and bright images, like photographs. She could hardly even remember his face, but, _somehow_, she _knew_ him. She knew his birthday, his favorite food, favorite color, what he did in spare time, how he laughed, just about _everything_; but they were all empty and hollow. Because she had not learned these from him, not experienced the memories with him, they were meaningless, just simple trivia from a book.

She hated the feelings she received when thinking of her brother, hated the chaos... but she also _yearned_ for it.

With everything she had, she wanted to know Brant.

Axel yelled loudly as he lunged at the wooden post he was practicing with, bringing him back to Kayin's thoughts. Of course, then there was the brother she'd grown up with. Axel had tried to be everything an older brother should be, and Kayin loved him for it. She smiled just slightly; when thinking of Axel, the impressions she received were like her mother's impressions: warm, loving, gentle, and, most importantly, _familiar_. There was no emptiness when it came to Axel; and on top of that, he knew her better than anyone did and anyone ever would, with the exception of her mother.

A different impression blazed through her, causing her to flinch. She closed her eyes, inhaling a shuddery breath.

And finally, there were the impressions that she had received at random throughout her whole life; the impressions she received from the one who had made her what she was...

Footsteps came to her attention, and Kayin was enveloped by her mother's presence. Kayin looked up at her for a moment; Estelle's face had a serene look to it. It was a look not seen on a regular basis, but something about being at the temple seemed to have wrought a change in this. Taking this in, the girl turned her gaze back to her brother.

"He's getting better," remarked Estelle approvingly. Kayin nodded in silence.

Estelle took this in stride; it hadn't taken her very long to learn that Kayin wasn't a very social person, and had accepted it. Still, she couldn't help but worry about her daughter from time to time... She glanced sideways at the child. "...I forgot to ask: what did you think of Omi?"

Omi. The one Axel had told her about almost endlessly. The one who'd saved her older brothers at the tender age of four.

...He wasn't _exactly_ as she'd imagined, but still he intrigued her.

She did have memories of Omi; they were vague, but she could see his young face, peering at her in wide-eyed fascination, or a brief flash of him getting along with Axel, Brant eyeing the two from his own bed, or the tiniest flicker of a hand softly touching her cheek and then darting back, as though frightened the touch would break her. Just soft, simple memories that told her more than one would expect them to.

Kayin shrugged. "I liked him."

Estelle smiled, looking back at her son. She was quiet for a brief moment, and then said, "He _has_ changed since I last saw him... but I know he's still that sweet little four year old who checked in on us from time to time when we were in the infirmary, somewhere in there."

The nine year old didn't doubt; she could feel it there when she was close enough to him, hovering in the background of her mind.

"...You heard about the Dragons going back to their previous temple, didn't you?" Estelle said it like a statement, not a question.

"Yes," said Kayin unblinkingly. She glanced sideways at her mother. "I'm betting that we intend to follow them?"

Estelle grinned. "Well of course; and besides, it _is_ the place where you were born. I have no doubt that you'd wish to see it."

Kayin was just a little surprised to realize her mother was right: She was very curious about the building that had changed so much in their lives. She couldn't remember very much about it: Just a ceiling and bits and pieces of what looked like an infirmary. Besides that – she had been left to picture it from Axel's stories.

Axel was coming to a stop in his practicing, panting slightly and wiping sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

"I would like to see it," she murmured, "...very much so."

* * *

Aderyn tapped the armrests of her chair, not breaking eye contact with Jack, sitting maybe ten feet away. The boy's red eyes were narrowed as he glared at her, and Aderyn continued to meet it coolly. They'd been like that since escorted to the room; currently, they were waiting for the monks to inform them where they'd be spending the night. 

Somewhere in the building, a clock was ticking. The sound echoed through the halls, very loud in the cold silence between the two youths.

_Tick... tick... tick..._

"So...," said Jack, "you're a friend of Jermaine's?"

"Yes," replied Aderyn shortly.

"Hm."

_Tick... tick... tick... tick..._

Jack coughed.

"Well," sighed Aderyn, expression unchanging. "This is _fascinating_."

"It'd be a bit more 'fascinating' if you said something once in a while," grumbled Jack.

"Or if you actually said something intelligent," she retorted.

The Spicer boy made a motion as though to rise to his feet, but leaned back into his chair, scowling at the disheveled girl before him. "You just don't know what intelligent is, scruffy."

Aderyn snorted. "I could say the same thing about you, skinny."

"You really are Jermaine's buddy," muttered Jack. He raised an eyebrow at her, and Aderyn saw a faint gleam of curiosity enter his eyes. "He wouldn't happen to have mentioned me, would he?"

"Actually, he did," said Aderyn.

Jack blinked; his eyes became a little more interested. "Really? What'd he say about me?"

She paused slightly before answering, and then smirked a little. "He called you a whiny momma's boy."

"WHAT?"

Her smirk became a grin at Jack's reaction. He had leapt to his feet, fuming, his face taking on a red tinge with rage. Aderyn swallowed the threatening laughter in her throat.

"And I quote," she added calmly.

"I AM _NOT_ WHINY!" he shouted in a rather high pitch, causing Aderyn to wriggle a finger in her ear.

"Uh-huh," said the girl, still smirking; "right."

"Ooh, I _swear_," snarled Jack, pointing a threatening finger at no one in particular, "the next time I so much as _see_ that-"

"Careful," said Aderyn lightly. "Don't say anything you might regret."

If looks could kill, Aderyn probably would've been a ghost ten times over within a few seconds, but Jack threw himself back into his seat, and continued to glare at her. She chuckled under her breath; his expression was actually a bit comical after a while.

Then Jack thought of something that made him smirk. "At least I don't have to wear a robe."

Aderyn's amusement vanished when she blinked. "What makes you think I'll be wearing a robe?"

"The monks measured you, didn't they?"

That was true: before leaving, the monks had asked to take some measurements of her before leaving. She could've slapped herself for not realizing it earlier.

"Ah well," sighed Jack, looking a little smug. "I'm sure they'll look lovely."

For several moments Aderyn narrowed her eyes at Jack, trying to decide on a course of action. Finally she settled further into her chair, face becoming impassive, and shrugged. "Certainly; Jermaine said they weren't that bad; I guess I'll live."

She smothered her growing of amusement at Jack's incredulous face. He stared at her openly for maybe three seconds, then shook his head and mirrored her emotionless expression. "Whatever."

Aderyn allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch just slightly upward.

Someone cleared their throat. Both Jack and Aderyn jumped and stared at the doorway, where one of the monks stood. Both leapt to their feet, and Aderyn reached him first.

"Your bath is drawn, Miss Aderyn," he informed her. So saying, he handed her some neatly folded robes. "We were able to find some in your size; I'm certain your current clothes could use some washing."

Aderyn looked determinedly away from Jack's triumphant face and sniggers. "Thank you, sir," she said regally, and Jack doubled up from trying to stifle his laughter.

The monk turned his gaze to Spicer and raised an eyebrow. "As for you, Mr. Spicer...," he began. Jack immediately stopped laughing and stiffened to attention, although he continued grinning. "We have made arrangements for your sleeping quarters: you will be in the room across the hall from the Dragons, along with Miss Baina here."

As one, Jack and Aderyn's faces turned into identical expressions of horror.

"I hope you find your stay here satisfactory," said the monk. With that, he bowed and left the two to stare at each other open-mouthed.

That clock was still ticking...

Jack began to speak. "Uh-"

"Gotta go wash," interrupted Aderyn hurriedly, and rushed down the hall, leaving Jack alone in dumbfounded silence.

* * *

The news that they were headed back to the old temple had not fazed Omi from his mission in the slightest. Quite the contrary: He was now sinking his teeth into it with a renewed fervor, taking each and every opportunity he could to coach Raimundo before they would leave the next day. In fact he was already dragging Raimundo around the grounds, reading through _The Most Ancient Guide to Females_ and lining out plans for the environment they were returning to. Meanwhile, Raimundo was a perfect picture of the living dead, glazed expression and all. Omi glanced at the Wind Dragon's posture with disapproval. 

"Straighten yourself, Raimundo; we must be prepared!"

Raimundo grunted.

Omi raised a concerned eyebrow at that. "Perhaps we should see if you are going up with something or other," he mused.

The Brazilian stared at Omi for a few moments, and then said, "I think you mean 'coming down with something'."

Omi stared at him blankly. "Coming down from where?"

"Never mind."

There were a few moments in which Omi continued to stare at his friend, and then he shrugged and carried on. When Omi continued chattering away, Haruki's voice asked lightly, 'Has he _ever_ gotten slang right?'

_You have to ask?_

'Good point,' the falcon chuckled.

For the first time, Raimundo was overtly relieved that Haruki was in his head. Now, all he had to do was follow Omi around and make noises of acknowledgement at intervals, instead of actually listening to him.

As far as the Wind Dragon was concerned, any distraction from Omi's "tutelage" was a blessing.

'You realize that you haven't packed at all yet, right?'

Raimundo cast an irritated glare at Omi. _Gee; I wonder why _that_ is._

'Aw, let him have his fun,' said Haruki. 'You're only young once.'

_Why are you taking his side?_ asked Raimundo with annoyed incredulity.

'Because it's amusing.'

Raimundo muttered irately under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. _Consider yourself lucky that you're not tangible._

'Is that a threat?'

_What's it sound like?_

'For your sake, I hope you don't try to carry it out,' Haruki remarked amusedly. 'You wouldn't want to take me on as my normal self.'

_I suppose that's why Wraith managed to reduce you to your current state._

He couldn't help but feel a small glow of satisfaction when he sensed Haruki bristling. 'It just shows how desperate he was!' the falcon snapped. 'Besides, like I said, he caught me off guard. And if I hadn't been making preparations-'

_Preparations?_ asked Raimundo quickly; he'd gotten Haruki to slip! _Preparations for what?_

For a long while, Haruki didn't say anything. Omi was still chattering on about something or other; Raimundo really didn't care anymore, to tell the truth. He was far too interested in what Haruki would say next. ...Of course, the Dragon didn't _really_ expect the falcon to say anything else, so he was a little surprised by his next words.

'...For when the Bracelet of Darkness reveals itself,' he said quietly.

Raimundo blinked. _What happens then?_

The falcon didn't answer.

_Oh, c'mon, man! You can't honestly believe I'm just going to settle for that! Now I_ really_ need details!_

However, Haruki seemed to be finished giving Raimundo cryptic hints, for the Wind Dragon felt his strange occupant settle into the state of silence he held when Raimundo needed to pay attention to others. Raimundo frowned confusedly; just _what_ was Haruki talking about? Was the Bracelet of Darkness all that? What about its sister Wu, the Pendant of Light?

...And just where did Raimundo and his friends fit into all of this?

"...Jewelry, of course, is most expensive, but the flowers may work, providing Kimiko does not hold allergies, and – Raimundo, are you listening to me?"

* * *

Some distance away, Clay saw Kimiko waving him over to her, and, after a confused pause, walked over. As he neared, it was apparent that she was much more awake than she had been at breakfast, and he felt a ripple of relief. Reaching her, Kimiko grinned at him and pointed to whatever it was she was finding amusing. It didn't take long: Omi leading Raimundo around the grounds was a spectacle that was hard to miss. 

"Isn't it precious that they've learned to play nicely with each other?" she said cheerfully as Raimundo seemed to hold back a furious shout. Clay smiled with amusement, raising an eyebrow. The two others were now unknowingly making their way over to their spectators, Omi still chattering about something and Raimundo still looking like he was going to kill the small monk if he didn't shut up. Clay didn't need a neon sign to know what they were talking about.

Kimiko suddenly narrowed her eyes, and leaned forward, peering at Omi. "What's that book he's got?" she asked, straining to see the title.

Sensing danger on the winds, Clay attempted to get her attention off it. "Oh, nothin'," he said casually, trying to lead her away. "Y'know, we should really start packin', don't you-"

"I can pack later," the girl replied, expression becoming suspicious.

An alarm bell was going off somewhere within Clay's mind, and he began trying to tell Omi via telepathy that he needed to put the book away; of course, Omi wasn't getting the message, and the closer he got, the more suspicious Kimiko's expression became. But before she could make out the title, Omi stowed it back into his robes, and she sighed in disappointment. "Oh well."

Clay silently released the breath he'd been holding.

Suddenly Omi spotted Kimiko and Clay and beamed at them. "Hello, Kimiko, Clay!" he said cheerfully, coming to a stop before his two friends. Raimundo took a position next to the bald monk with a sullen expression; Omi paid no notice. "You are looking much better now, Kimiko."

"Thanks, Omi," smiled the Dragon of Fire. She yawned a little. "Still pretty tired though."

"As long as you don't pass out on the stonework, I think we'll manage," said Raimundo, a smirk finding his face.

Kimiko glared at him, but a smile crept onto her face as well. Noticing this, Omi opened his mouth to say something, but Raimundo leaned on him and the Dragon of Water, looking irritated, kept his silence once again.

Clay looked around at the little chain of events, and smiled slightly. For once, he was glad he was just the spectator in all of this.

Then he felt the familiar sensation of Dojo scrambling up onto his shoulder. Once the dragon was settled, he whispered into Clay's ear, "What've I missed?"

Chuckling silently, Clay responded, "Nothin' much; Kimi almost found out about the book, though."

Dojo gave a low whistle. "Taking a few risks, huh?"

"Just a few..."

By this point, the other three had become alerted to Dojo's presence, and had stopped the show. Dojo managed to cover up his disappointment by asking, "You guys packed yet?" When they shook their heads, the dragon looked shocked, almost to the point of being scandalized. "You're kidding! I've been packed for the last five hours!"

"Not all of us are as fast as you when it comes to packin', Dojo," said Clay, grinning. Dojo remained unfazed.

"No harm in being prepared, right?"

"Dojo," said Kimiko with a raised eyebrow, "you do realize we're not leaving until tomorrow morning, right?"

The small dragon straightened himself up, getting as tall as he could in his current size. "So I like packing early."

_Right; except he was the last one ready when we _left Clay thought silently.

"But I suppose it would be wise to achieve a foot's beginning on it," Omi broke in reasonably. He turned to Raimundo. "You will need all the time you can-"

He stopped abruptly, because Raimundo had vanished. Looking around, they spotted him halfway across the grounds, hightailing it to their room. Omi shouted indignantly after him before taking chase, and the three remaining smothered their laughter as best they could.

* * *

**YES! IT'S UP! FINALLY! Took long enough, dinnit? I'll bet some of you thought I'd never get it up, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU? WELL YOU WERE WRONG! HA! IT TOOK ME FOREVER AND SOME LACK OF SLEEP, BUT I DID IT! HA! HAHAHA!**

**-cough- Anyway; I wasn't very sure about this chapter at first, but after adding Jack and that Kayin bit, I felt much better. Oh, and for those of you who didn't understand that last mix-up Omi made, he meant "get a head start". (And, no, I didn't mix up Aderyn's name with "Baina"; that's her last name. )**

**Haruki: Review:)**


	12. Home Sweet Home

**Disclaimer:** Haruki: ...Nope; Calistar still doesn't own Xiaolin Showdown.

A/N: Okay... longer wait than I had hoped for... but here it is!

ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS

**unknown**: -blush- Dude, I think you give me too much credit. But I appreciate it all the same. Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

_Prophecy_  
A _Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction

Written by Calistar Heir

**Chapter Twelve: Home Sweet Home**

The steady dripping of water in an unseen, far-off location was the only sound here.

Jermaine had allowed himself to become used to it.

Though Aderyn's escape had been worth it, Jermaine was becoming tired of simply sitting in a cold, damp cave which was who-knows-where, though most likely far underground. At least the previous place had held light, and the more interesting sounds of crashing waves, wind, and flying gulls. His only comfort now was a flickering fire several feet away, which his captors had left behind for him in a strange act of courtesy.

"Despite what you may think, we'd like to keep you alive," the man with the scarred face had said. Jermaine couldn't imagine why.

Sighing despondently, the New Yorker shifted uncomfortably; the chains on his wrists, situated at his back, were rubbing his skin raw, and despite (or possibly in spite) of the fire, the dampness was wetting his clothes, causing cold shivers to run up and down his spine from time to time. The stone surroundings weren't exactly helping, either.

And he was starting to suspect that he was losing his mind, though he wasn't exactly positive. The odd noises echoing through the virtual anthill of caverns, caves, and tunnels could have been anything from rats to the infuriatingly consistent water drips.

Still, Jermaine stubbornly refused to let it get to him. Every time he considered succumbing to the surroundings and escaping into oblivious madness, an image of Omi, scowling furiously and listing off a long list of disappointed statements, furious shouts, and mangled idioms snapped him back to reality. If he gave up here, Jermaine was certain Omi would see to it personally that it haunt him into the afterlife.

Even now it hardened his resolve. _I'll make you proud, Omi._

* * *

For all intents and purposes, Haruki was not completely happy with his current state of affairs. 

Being in a state that did not require sleep, the wind elemental found that he quite missed the cycle. Instead, he found that his conscious entered a sort of haze, like a veil had crossed his intact mind and separated him from his surroundings (or more accurately, Raimundo's surroundings.) Despite the slight relief he found in these occurrences, however, it also opened him up to viewing past experiences, more recent ones far more common than others.

And the most recent memories were _not_ ones he was particularly fond of.

_Haruki? Yo, Haruki! You still in there, dude?_

Haruki blinked (or at least, he imagined he did) as he was pulled out of semi-consciousness again. Raimundo's prodding thoughts regained his awareness of the goings-on. And immediately, he could tell that his vessel was getting a little uncomfortable by the up and down motion he had to endure (no matter what he may have said to the contrary.)

Even Haruki was susceptible to the constant motion of Dojo's flight, and in all honesty, it made him feel a little sick. He didn't know how it was possible to feel sick in his current situation, but he did, and quite frankly, he liked to leave it at that. Not too far behind the dragon, Estelle, Axel, and Kayin Bronwen flew in the Silver Manta Ray. The group had been concerned about the flying arrangements, but Axel had promised he'd been practicing, and, true to his word, he flew the mobile Wu quite nicely. However, that alone didn't seem to settle the ripple of apprehension teasing Raimundo's inner thoughts.

_...Haruki?_

'Still here, Raimundo,' Haruki answered.

_Something wrong, bird-dude?_

Haruki was surprised to sense something akin to concern in the question. Uncomfortably, he dodged the thoughts behind Raimundo's inquiry and responded as casually as he could. 'I'm fine, Raimundo.'

_...Alright, what's going on?_ asked Raimundo suspiciously.

'What?'

_I noted your apparent lack of sarcasm,_ thought the Brazilian bluntly. _Something's up._

'When isn't anything up?'

_Har, har. You know what I mean._

Oh, yes; Haruki knew what his vessel meant. But that didn't mean he was going to unzip his lips about it. 'Oh, do I? Then _you_ know what _I_ mean when I say, "I can't tell you that" – or at least, you should by now.'

_Yeah; but I think I deserve some answers._

'About what?'

_I dunno_, said Raimundo. _How about the Bracelet of Darkness, for starters?_

Haruki winced; he'd been kicking himself for letting that bit slip ever since yesterday. He really should have just left it at "preparations" and withstood any prodding he would have received from Raimundo. But no: He'd decided it was inconsequential for Raimundo to know that tidbit, and thusly, the falcon was in deeper trouble than before. _Just as Strom predicted_, he thought bitterly.

Thinking that, he could almost see the water elemental's smug expression, and Haruki's annoyance was fanned into anger at the image. _Well, why not give Strom a little something more to gloat about?_ he scowled to himself.

'Fine,' Haruki snapped. 'It's a Shen-Gong-Wu. Its sister Wu is the Pendant of Light. It's round.'

_Those weren't the answers-_

'Well, it's all you'll get from me.'

_What is with you, Haruki?_ snapped Raimundo. _Why're you so high-strung all of a sudden?_

He didn't answer. In truth, he had no answer he could give to the Dragon of Wind. But he knew that Raimundo wouldn't settle with that; he sensed his curiosity and frustration alike building, and – Haruki had to admit – with good reason. Someone had just entered his consciousness without permission and was withholding information that could shed a lot of light on his current situation. The falcon could relate to that.

But rules were rules: Haruki remained silent.

The silence between them lasted a long while, and the tension was almost suffocating (and that was saying a lot for someone without lungs.) Raimundo was continuing conversation with the other three Wudai Warriors with surprising casualness, but Haruki sensed the battling emotions within him. True, he'd told Raimundo that he couldn't feel what his vessel felt – but in all honesty, he just hadn't wanted the Brazilian to freak out any more than he had been already.

It had sounded wise at the time, and still did. But Haruki knew that he would not be receiving any applause.

To be honest, the wind elemental had assumed Raimundo would put his energy into being angry at him and sulk the rest of the way. However, suddenly the boiling anger began to fizzle, doused by a surprising amount of begrudging guilt, and the Dragon of Wind spoke again.

_Sorry._

Haruki wasn't sure if shocked was the best term for his state of mind. Baffled may have come close, but it still didn't sound right. Shoving those thoughts away, he pondered if he should let the argument continue to boil, but decided to allow Raimundo this round.

'It's alright,' he assured, trying to get across that he wasn't mad anymore. The tension lifted, and Haruki felt at ease again.

...For the moment, anyway.

Haruki found himself frowning mentally. The complications of his situation were never very far from his thoughts, and his worry about it was slowly but steadily on the rise. With every _second_ things remained the way they were, the possibility of side-effects on Raimundo – and himself – could only grow... and become more dangerous. And then there were the consequences...

'_There's a loophole for this exact situation,'_ Haruki assured himself. _'You don't have anything to worry about if you just stick to the rules.'_

The only problem with that was Haruki knew himself better than anyone.

'_Just stick to the rules...'_

* * *

Aderyn sighed, tilting her head back to examine the blue sky above her. The late-morning sun looked cheerfully down upon the Earth, almost dissolving the girl's anxieties – almost. She wasn't exactly sure how long she'd been out here, but it seemed like ages. 

Jermaine had been right; the robes _were_ comfortable. Her particular robes were the customary red with a high collar, and the gi lengthening to form a kind of skirt with a slit up the left thigh; the white pants extended halfway down her calves, her feet adorned in simple black shoes. The gi had once had open-ended sleeves, but at her request (and her surprise when it was granted,) they'd been removed and the gi was tailored to be sleeveless.

One hand rose to brush away a few errant hairs, too short for the clips. Her hair had been pulled back by two of them, rectangular and red, emblazoned with what she could only assume was the temple's insignia. In fact, she quite liked them, and asked if she could keep them, again surprised when they granted her request.

Yes, they were nice people, and she almost felt greedy asking for things. But they always greeted her with surprising pleasure – and some amusement, she was sure.

But in any case, here she was, standing in the middle of the courtyard, watching the sky for any sign of the Xiaolin Dragons. And as time passed, her anticipation only seemed to grow. She'd almost gone into hysterics twice by this point, both caused by two birds. Thankfully, no one was watching.

Or – so she thought.

"Y'know, if you stay like that, it's _possible_ you'll go blind."

Sighing, Aderyn closed her eyes briefly, and turned around to see Jack lounging in a doorway behind her. Curiously, his face held no emotion; instead, he seemed to be studying her, like a scientist watching a lab rat.

The image of Jack, dressed in a white lab coat and wearing glasses, standing above a small maze with her inside, adorned in brown fur, a long snout with whiskers, and two round ears, popped into Aderyn's head. Suddenly, she was at a loss as to whether she should burst out laughing or fume.

In the end, she shoved the thought aside, coming back to the problem at hand.

"Only possibly?" she asked calmly.

"Well...," mulled Jack, scratching his chin, "there's this funny thing called sarcasm..."

"_No_," said Aderyn. "Really?"

For a moment, Jack stared at her, his expression strangely dubious. During that moment, Aderyn wondered if maybe this was some sort of weird ploy of the "Evil Boy-Genius". But that was squashed when the redhead started out of his trance.

"Wait – was that sarcasm, or were you being serious?"

It was Aderyn's turn to stare openly.

"...You're – joking... right?" she asked, trying to control the pleading in her voice.

"Uh-"

"Okay," she interrupted, throwing her hands up, "you know what? Just – don't."

"But-"

"Say one more word, Spicer, and I _swear_ I will!"

Inwardly, she cringed, not exactly knowing where that sentence was going to go. Jack blinked. "Will what?"

Aderyn considered stalling, but decided to cross her arms and stand coolly, a smirk playing with her lips. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know."

If there was ever a moment that Aderyn wanted to burst out laughing, it was now. Somehow, the dubious expression worked rather well on Jack. And the fact that he had fallen for that little taunt somehow made the situation even funnier – or perhaps just more relieved on her part. Either way, she was laughing, and it took Jack a few good seconds to finally blink his way out of his baffled stupor.

"Okay, I _know_ that last sentence of yours shouldn't have worked," he said confusedly, "but, in this weird, completely beyond me way, it _did_."

"Welcome to that which is my genius," Aderyn grinned. After a moment's consideration, Jack allowed a grin of his own as well.

And quite suddenly, the two were grinning at each other, and not because one knew something the other didn't, or vice-versa. Coming to a realization of what she was doing, Aderyn wiped the smile off her face and turned back to her previous stance, staring upwards, blaming the heat in her cheeks on the sunlight. Jack stared blankly at her, confused for a moment, until it dawned on him and he shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning on the doorjamb. He felt strangely peeved at Aderyn's behavior, yet couldn't place exactly why. Sighing irritably to himself, he threw his hands up in the air and turned to leave.

He hesitated. Then he looked back at Aderyn, standing as she was with her head tilted back and eyes searching the clouds.

Jack wasn't good at this. In fact, he was downright terrible at what he was going to attempt, and he knew it. And yet, beyond every fathomable thought in his head, he was going to try it anyway.

"...Um... Aderyn..."

Aderyn lowered her head, eyes lowering to the side, not turning to him.

"Um... y'know, about Jermaine... well, he's a – tough kid, y'know, and... the guys... they – I just wanted you to know... We – they – _you_ will – you guys'll find him."

The girl still said nothing, heart beating quietly within her.

"Just – wanted to say it...," Jack muttered, hesitantly turning back around and quickening his step.

Aderyn remained frozen for a moment, silent. Then she looked back upwards, her breath hitched in her chest, and tried to convince herself that it was the appearance of the two dots in the sky that had affected her breathing...

* * *

"So... this is the Temple I've heard so much about?" 

Axel looked at his sister, whose eyes were studying her new surroundings with great curiosity. None of them had bothered to hop out of the Silver Manta Ray yet, and thusly they were given a different view of the place, standing several feet above the ground.

The temple still stood much as it always had, painted in the light of the sunset, quiet and peaceful. Although Axel noted that many of the trees seemed larger than he remembered, and there were other select differences, too, but still... it was very much the temple he had left so many years ago. He looked to his sister, and felt a rush of gratification to see she seemed pleased. The smile on her lips proved to be infectious, and suddenly the sixteen year old found he was grinning broadly. He turned to his mother to see the same grin on her features.

"Hasn't changed much, has it, Axe?" she said, eyes twinkling at him.

He shook his head. "Not really, no."

Kayin raised an eyebrow. "Well, it isn't exactly what I expected..."

Axel shoved her playfully. "Oh c'mon. Even _you_ can lighten up sometimes."

"And why, dearest Axel," said Kayin, fixing him with her dark-eyed stare, "would this be one of those times?"

Meeting his sister's eyes, Axel knew that he need not answer: Kayin could read him like a book.

"Oh, look!"

Estelle's excited voice bounced them back to reality. Both turned to see their mother looking excited, pointing. "It's Master Fung!"

Axel's blue eyes followed his mother's indicating finger, and finally saw the old man. Finally looking, he saw that, in his haste, Dojo had actually knocked his previous cargo to the ground in his haste to greet the monk. A few furious exclamations later, the four picked themselves up and gathered around their teacher, smiling now. But Axel didn't miss the scowl Kimiko threw Dojo once she got a clear view of him. He chuckled under his breath.

Master Fung was certainly much older than Axel's memories portrayed. Of course, he'd been far from a young man back then, but now, to the teen's unfamiliar eyes, it seemed he'd gained a hundred years. There was something to his posture, to his expression, that gave him much more age.

Axel knew he should have expected as much, but it was shocking all the same.

"Even he isn't beyond aging, eh, Axe?"

The teen didn't need to turn; he could feel Kayin's eyes drilling a hole into him. He cleared his throat.

"W-well, maybe we should, y'know, start unpacking – or something?" he suggested, dodging his sister's gaze. Estelle's eyebrows rose subtly, but she didn't comment.

As Axel hopped down and helped his mother, Kayin remained in the Silver Manta Ray a moment longer. She remained very quiet, expression hidden, eyes very slightly narrowed.

"Hmm...," she murmured to herself, scanning what she knew to be her new home. "Interesting..."

* * *

Coincidentally, "Hmm..." was the exact same phrase flickering through all four of the Dragons' minds as they looked at their two new occupants. Of course, Jack had been only a slig surprise; in fact, Omi had voiced on the way that they probably shouldn't be surprised to see their odd foe, the way he'd been acting last they saw him. To which they had laughed; raucously. ("I thought it was just supposed to be a joke...," Raimundo mumbled under his breath upon actually seeing Jack at the temple. Hearing him, Kimiko elbowed him roughly in the ribs.) 

No, it was the girl who piqued their interest. When Jack had flung himself, half laughing, half sobbing hysterically, at them only to be stopped by Omi's hand connecting with his face, she had hung back, looking uncertain. Once they'd taken notice of her, however, the girl had walked forward to stand next to Jack, who was now several steps away from the four friends, a red hand-print throbbing angrily on his cheek.

It was an odd, long silence that endured.

And, as it is well known, all silences must be broken at some point. This one was shattered by a small cough.

"Um...," said the stranger, obviously trying to act casual, "...maybe I should – introduce myself?" For a moment, she fumbled with greetings, and finally settled with a polite bow. "Aderyn."

"Aderyn!"

_Trust Omi to be enthusiastic_, thought Clay.

Omi bounced forward, seized an un-offered hand and shook it cheerfully. Aderyn's eyebrows rose, almost to the point of vanishing into her hairline, but she gripped his hand and went along with the shake politely, which – granted – was a hard thing to do, all things considered. Her hazel eyes glanced towards Omi's companions, and saw that they were all wearing an expression somewhere between bemusement and confusion. She shrugged at them; they shrugged back.

Aderyn found herself smiling. Perhaps it wasn't going to be as bad as expected...

By this point, Omi had relinquished Aderyn's hand – she immediately set to work on awakening her numbed fingers – and stepped back, beaming up at her. She looked back down at him, her eyes sprinkled with amused surprise.

"As you have offered us your name," said Omi cheerily, "it is only proper to introduce ourselves: I am-"

"Yeah, you're Omi," interrupted Aderyn, smiling. Omi's cheerful demeanor crumbled into shock. "And you guys are Clay, Raimundo, and Kimiko, right?"

The four Dragons glanced at each other, slightly uneasy. Putting a hand to the side of his mouth, Raimundo muttered to Kimiko and Clay, "There's another one who doesn't need introductions..." The other two nodded, silent. Omi simply remained in his shocked stance, mouth slightly agape.

Tinkling a nervous laugh, Aderyn was quick to explain. "Sorry; I didn't mean to be so forward. It's just – you're exactly as Jermaine described..."

That brought all whispering, tension, and suspicion to a complete standstill.

"Jermaine?" chorused Raimundo, Kimiko, and Clay.

"You know him?" exclaimed Omi, eyebrows rising.

"Well, yeah!" Relief gave her voice a gentle giggle. "He's my best friend!"

Suddenly, Aderyn was surrounded by the odd quartet, each one exclaiming surprise and messages of welcome to her. In the blink of an eye, Aderyn had suddenly become acceptable.

"No kidding!"

"You're from New York?"

"How's Jermaine, anyway?"

"Yes! How is our friend faring?"

Aderyn kept smiling, but there was something sad to it now. "Well, y'see, 'Maine-"

She was stopped abruptly by Jack elbowing her, hissing a warning. The four Dragons paused, confused.

"Aderyn," muttered Jack, looking uncharacteristically serious, "the geezer said we couldn't say anything about that until after he talked with 'em..."

"I know that," she grumbled back, looking irritated. "But why do _you_ care?"

"I don't care!" hissed the redhead, an expression of equal annoyance on his face.

"About what?" asked Kimiko, brow furrowed worriedly.

"Has something happened?" asked Omi with concern.

Both guests hesitated, remaining silent. Jack and Aderyn shared a look. And it was in that look, that secretive exchange between the two who obviously didn't exactly like each other, that invited in the fear. As the four looked between long-time enemy and new-found friend, one question shone in their eyes:

What happened to Jermaine?

Someone cleared their throat, and the Dragons whipped around to see Master Fung standing behind them, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Omi trotted up to his teacher, his expression doubtful. "Master Fung... What has become of Jermaine?"

"Is this what you called us back for?" pressed Kimiko.

Master Fung raised a hand for silence. "Come, young monks; there is much to discuss.

* * *

There were so many questions ask, so many answers to receive. They were all bouncing around, unsaid, whispering silently to everyone present, begging to be voiced, released. And yet, all they could utter was one word: 

"Why?"

Master Fung sighed, looking at their confused, expectant, sorrowful faces. They were giving him the look: the look that said they believed he knew all the answers, and would gladly give them to the four, preferably in a simple manner that was easy to explain and understand. Dashi knew, there were days when even Master Fung wished things could be so simple.

But not this time.

"Why Jermaine?" asked Clay.

"Because," said Master Fung calmly, "our new enemy knows that he is the right age to be one of those who could summon – and possibly wield – the only thing that could ever stop them."

Dojo's mouth fell open. The four stared at their teacher, and then at each other. Their confusion carried out their silence. Even Raimundo didn't comment, although more probably because once Master Fung had finished his sentence, Haruki inhaled sharply, as though surprised. Raimundo had half a mind to ask the falcon what was wrong, but knew that he wouldn't receive an answer. But still, he suddenly had a nagging suspicion that he was about to get an idea of what Haruki was preparing for...

"What do you mean, Master?" asked Omi, blinking up at the old man.

Master Fung sighed, still uncertain of his actions. Dojo was hissing, "You think they should hear about that just yet? I mean, the End-of-the-World drill has become pretty much second nature, but this thing...? You think they're ready?"

But...

Master Fung glanced in the direction of one of the Elders. Understanding, the other monk left with a bow.

"I suppose it is time to tell you at last," said the teacher, motioning to the four to sit.

They did so, expressions still confused. Meanwhile, Raimundo's "End-of-the-World-Speech-Imminent" sensory was blaring loudly in his inner ear. Again, he held his tongue, far too interested to quip about the oft-repeated situation.

Once the students were settled, Master Fung paused. He could feel the Dragons' eyes drilling holes into him; even Dojo was now staring at him, expectant, surprised.

He brought them this far...

"It all started long ago, possibly even before Dashi..."

_This oughta be good,_ Raimundo thought. It was greeted by a fervent shushing from Haruki.

"...with a prophecy."

Silence. Master Fung's audience was staring at him, eyebrows raised.

"Prophecies have never been among our main concerns. It is a well known fact that possession of 'the eye' is extremely rare, and very few of the thousands claiming to have it are truthful. Even if someone has the gift of foresight, it is a difficult thing to trust, depending on just how long it may take for a prophecy to come to pass..."

He paused when one small, yellow hand shot up in the air. "Omi?"

"Master," said Omi, lowering his hand once more, "does this also apply to the Crystal Glasses Shen-Gong-Wu?"

"In every sense, Omi," the old monk replied. "In truth, every kind of foresight can only reveal one future."

"_One_ future?" blinked Clay.

But Master Fung had raised his hand once more for silence. "There is another time for us to discuss this, but now is not it."

_What's he talking about, Haruki?_ Raimundo couldn't help but ask.

'We can't talk about it now,' said Haruki; he sounded a little strained. 'Just listen to Master Fung; I'll try to explain later...'

Privately, Raimundo wondered just how much "later" they were talking about.

"As I was saying, we cannot spare the time to meddle in such dangerous and uncertain affairs. We heed them, but try not to put too much weight on them. To live one's life by something so easily changed could be disastrous...

"...but every hundred years or so, there is one that we simply cannot ignore..."

Here, he paused again. In the silence that followed, the four friends glanced at each other uneasily. The fine hairs on the back of their necks were starting to prickle.

The Elder returned; in his hands was something tubular, wrapped in a cloth of red velvet with blue trimmings. As the Elder passed it to Master Fung, the two monks nodded, and the Elder left as silently has he'd come, leaving Master Fung to study the object with what almost looked like reverence. The four students watched this quietly, daring to exchange quizzical expressions. Strangely, what was more confusing to them was that Dojo was wearing an expression near identical to Master Fung's.

Dojo, who used books of omens and holy scrolls to balance tables.

Perhaps this was a bit more serious than usual...

Breathing deeply, Master Fung turned his gaze back up to his four pupils, who stared at him wide-eyed. Looking at each of them in turn, he said, "What I hold here is what has brought each of you here, chosen each of you as Dragons."

The four waited with bated breath. Raimundo couldn't help but lean in a little, Haruki's apprehension pulsing to him in waves.

'Oh great Dashi...,' murmured the falcon. 'It's the real thing...'

_What's the real what?_

'Shhh!'

Oh, yes; this most _certainly_ should be good.

Calmly, Master Fung gently seized a corner and slowly began to unwrap the object. It was with the utmost care that he removed the cloth, and the reason why was revealed when the last layer came off and they all found themselves staring at what looked like an extremely ancient scroll, slightly frayed at the edges and yellow turning gold with age. Clasping it shut was a just as ancient red ribbon, held by a seal of the Xiaolin sign.

Despite the faint chill that scurried up their backs, the Dragons blinked. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of scrolls within the temple, and in many respects, this one seemed no different.

...And yet...

"Master...?" asked Omi tentatively.

Master Fung didn't say anything. Instead, he seemed to study each of the Dragons in turn, before holding the scroll before Kimiko. Looking surprised and confused, the Dragon of Fire gingerly took the aged scroll from Master Fung's hands, the three boys staring at her with raised eyebrows. Studying it for a moment, she tenderly removed seal and ribbon and unrolled it, eyes narrowing at the ancient and faded text, which was all but unreadable. But after a moment or two, first glancing at Master Fung, she cleared her throat, and began:

"_Earth created it..."_

As Kimiko spoke, everyone remained silent; Omi's mouth became steadily wider and Clay seemed to lean in, while Raimundo and Master Fung remained as they were. The Wind Dragon was almost positive that Haruki would probably have been hyperventilating by this point, but as he was, the falcon remained in tense silence, periodically muttering things to himself that Raimundo couldn't understand. Raimundo himself couldn't bring himself to articulate just what was going through his mind, although admittedly all thoughts were flashing by in a confused blur. And all the while, he repressed the urge to question Haruki to within an inch of his sanity.

It was a tempting thought, but with the jolting realization that this was a truly serious matter (a revelation which almost seemed to smack him upside the head with an invisible hand,) any and all teasing instincts vanished.

When the last words left Kimiko's mouth, the silence was almost suffocating. Kimiko herself only stared at the scroll she'd just read, expression concerned and quizzical. After a moment, she tore her gaze away from the paper and looked up at her teacher. "Master Fung..."

Omi, mouth still open, Clay, still leaning forward, and Raimundo, stiff where he sat, all turned their eyes back to Master Fung. Raimundo tried to speak, but his mouth and throat wouldn't open, causing him to utter a strange, strangled grunting noise. Omi managed to close his mouth, and Clay straightened himself.

The cowboy was the first to speak.

"...Was that 'bout us?"

"Although it has never been truly confirmed to us," Master Fung explained, "we are acting under that assumption."

Suddenly, Omi's expression became excited. "We will create the marvelous weapon described here?" he asked eagerly.

His eager expression quailed under Master Fung's unsmiling stare. "Again, so we assume."

"'Assume'?" Raimundo finally managed to splutter. "I thought you said we were dealing with 'dangerous and uncertain affairs'?"

"Which is where we take the risk," said Master Fung. "It is only natural – although perhaps unwise at times – to draw conclusions after a certain amount of time. It's dangerous, but necessary."

Raimundo had half a mind to challenge that, but he was interrupted.

'He's right, y'know...'

Haruki's voice was very quiet, though Raimundo was certain that he'd only imagined the hint of guilt in the falcon's tone. All the same, Raimundo kept the mental note to question the falcon about it later.

Master Fung reached out a hand to Kimiko, silently requesting the scroll. Kimiko, in turn, handed it back unquestioningly, and the old monk rose to his feet.

"I am sorry that I could not greet you with better news," he said to the four; the remorse in his voice was genuine. "Despite this, please do your best to help Aderyn feel at home." Here a faint smile tugged his mustache. "I don't believe she has fully appreciated Jack Spicer's company."

With that, he dismissed the four, and exited. Although free to go, the friends found themselves glued to where they sat, processing the whole meeting.

Then Raimundo remarked, scandalized, "So it really was an End-of-the-World deal?"

Kimiko promptly punched him in reply. Grunting with the impact, Raimundo winced slightly as he rubbed his arm.

"I deserved that..."

* * *

It was with quiet caution that one of the gates crept open. Away from the warm lights of the buildings, Axel poked his head through the opening, examining the familiar path. With the same caution he'd opened the door with, he stepped through, looking around. 

The trees seemed smaller than his memory told him. Light from a moon and starlit sky also made a world of difference, causing the path to look serene, rather than a scene out of a horror movie. But as he walked down the pathway, he could imagine the sky overhead being clouded, raindrops falling fast and heavy. He paused, lost in reminiscence, and glanced at a particular spot. In his mind's eye, he saw two boys, hidden behind a tree, and a large, green-eyed creature pacing the path before him...

"Axel?"

Blinking out of his thoughts, Axel turned to see his discoverer.

"Hey, Omi."

Omi was standing behind him, staring up at the sixteen year old with unparalleled curiosity. Upon being addressed, the tiny monk trotted forward. "What brings you out here so late?"

"Ah, nothing much," shrugged Axel lightly. "Just... memories..."

Fading into thoughtful silence, he thought he heard Omi make a small noise of comprehension, and then the Wudai Warrior's feet trotting forward to stand next to him.

"Many years have passed since that night," Omi murmured, sounding unusually reverent.

Axel nodded quietly. "Many years..."

They stayed in their memories for a moment longer, before Axel struggled back to the present and glanced down at his little friend. "Why aren't you with your friends, Omi?"

"They are with our new friend Aderyn," Omi replied nonchalantly.

"Aderyn, eh?" asked Axel. "Is she a new recruit, or something?"

Paused, Omi blinked, putting a hand to his chin. "I did not think of that..."

He silently mused over it (almost worriedly, Axel thought,) but then he visibly waved it aside and said, "She is a friend of friend. It's not certain how long she will be glueing around."

Axel stared. "Um... _sticking_ around?"

"Just as you say," replied the monk cheerfully.

The older boy couldn't help but snort with amusement. Sighing, he shook his head. _Strange kid..._

"Anyway," Omi said, breaking Axel's thoughts again, "although the welcoming back was not as cheery as preferred, I am still most glad to be home. And it is good to have you back as well."

Here Omi patted Axel on the arm as best he could. "I look forward to many a conversation with you, and please accept my apologies that we have not had much time to spend with each other. Remind me to have a long chat with you; we have much to catch up upon!"

So saying, Omi trotted back up the path and disappeared into the temple grounds. Axel watched him go, and turned to cast one last glance around.

"Home sweet home," he murmured with a small smile.

* * *

**Yes; I could have handled that better.**

**But I'm starting to get a little worried... that maybe I could've done the story in general a lot better...**

**Moving on: Does anyone excluding me miss Wraith and Brant? Be honest, people.**

**You know the drill: Review!**


	13. Talking it Out

**Disclaimer:** THE SHOW'S NOT MINE. This particular story is, BUT THAT'S ABOUT IT.

A/N: So… It's been a long, long time since I updated. But instead of giving some long, rambling explanation and apologizing about fifty-billion times (by the way, I'M SORRY,) I'll just get to the story. **HOWEVER**: I would suggest that you go to my profile for a very important announcement, please. Thank you.

It's a _short_ chapter? Horrors! (My only explanation: My writing style changed. Sorry.)

ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS**  
unknown:** Oh, they'll find out about him...eventually. ;)**  
Independent.C.:** I haven't given up just yet. Thank you for your support!

(Because the page-cuts aren't working...)_  
-P-_

_Prophecy_

A _Xiaolin Showdown_ fanfiction  
Written by blue-eyes2014

**Chapter Thirteen: Talking it Out**

Mist was common at this elevation. From far off, it would appear as a sea of cloud, broken only by the taller peaks of the mountains. But with a closer look, one would see that they were, in fact, separate, puffs of gray gliding along silently and peacefully. It had a dreary beauty to it, and the tone was marvelous for Wuya when she needed some air away from Chase's fortress.

The Heylin witch sat on a precipice, watching as clouds glided by, and once in a while turned her head. She did this casually, as though simply cracking a stiff part, but her eyes roved around her, keeping careful watch for crows…among other things.

Wuya knew this place quite well; she often came here when the grandeur of the fortress became too garish for her or Chase was particularly disagreeable. She had stumbled upon it rather quickly and, pleased to find that it was a safe distance from Chase, she visited it to think of things in private. Upon occasion, it served as a nice place to meet and plan with persons who Chase found disagreeable to his taste.

Tonight was no exception.

"You have been given the allotted time, Wuya."

Although she stiffened, it was more from the quietness of the speaker's approach than shock. Calmly, she turned her head to see two figures standing behind her, a large feline with flaming green eyes and a flame-tufted tail, and a young man in black, the hood of his long coat slightly hiding his face. She nodded to them in greeting.

"Hello, boys."

"Hello yourself," said the man. "It's time for an answer, Wuya."

"Oh, come now, Brant," said Wuya in a mock-pout as she rose to her feet, walking over to stand before the pair. "Why so formal? Aren't we friends?"

Brant raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what we're all here to find out?"

"Our offer will terminate by dawn tomorrow should you not answer, Wuya," said Wraith reminded her matter-of-factly; "you know this very well."

"Of course, I remember," Wuya sighed, waving her hand dismissively. Wraith's eyes narrowed, but otherwise showed no reaction to the witch's flippancy. "I've given this a lot of thought, and have a decision..." Here she paused, as though choosing her next words carefully. "...But what will I get out of this?"

The duo's faces were impassive. "Whatever do you mean?" asked Wraith calmly. "Shouldn't such a noble cause be reward enough?"

"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Wuya, as though shocked by such a notion. The corners of Brant's mouth twitched ever-so-slightly into a knowing smirk, but when the witch's suspicious eyes darted to him, it had vanished. She cleared her throat, and said, "I was just asking, perhaps..."

"If we could restore your rightful powers to you," finished Brant; it was not a question.

Wuya tried her hardest not to look too pleased that the young man had caught on. "Well, of course that's been on my mind...," she chuckled airily, as though it were of little importance to her.

"Cut the act, Wuya. We're both very aware that you want your powers back more than anything."

The Heylin witch hesitated for a moment, as though briefly considering if it was worth risking such a selfish question, and then blurted, "Can you?"

Wraith and Brant looked at each other, communing silently. Wraith gave an imperceptible nod, and Brant turned back to the witch.

"It's certainly possible," he replied coolly; an evasive note tickled his tone.

Wuya looked at the two as the words processed. Then the witch's eyes narrowed. "'Possible'...?" she murmured, the seeds of doubt slowly beginning to blossom.

"The matter depends upon what seals you," Wraith explained with enviable calm.

"You think I don't know that?" Wuya spat. "Can you, or can't you? I think it's a simple enough question."

Quietly, Wraith and Brant exchanged another glance. Then the feline slipped forward to the witch, and started to pad his way around her, tail flicking side-to-side and he looked her up and down. He slowly circled her three times, and then sat, tail settling smoothly across his forepaws. His green eyes studied the ground, flames dancing in thought.

"...Well?" Wuya grunted.

A contemplative "Hmm..." rumbled in the cat's throat. Then he said, "Young has been a bit cleverer than I would have given him credit for in this regard."

Brant walked forward to stand beside his partner. An eyebrow rose. "What, no life-bind sort of thing?"

"I am afraid not."

"So, we can't get my powers back by killing him," said Wuya dryly. "Marvelous." She sighed heavily – a hopeless sigh – and eyed the cat. "Anything else that might work?"

Once again, Wraith hummed to himself contemplatively. Then he cast a sidelong glance to Brant, and the same thought seemed to pass through their minds. After a moment, they turned their gazes back to Wuya, faces unreadable.

"Come," said Wraith, motioning to her that she should stand beside them. "We have something to show you."

_-P-_

"It was your own fault, y'know," Aderyn sighed, dabbing at Jack's head once again with the icepack.

Jack waved her off again with a less-than-manly squeal. "How many times do I have to tell you, don't touch it!"

Kimiko snorted. "She wouldn't have to if you two hadn't been snooping around just outside the door!"

(The six youths were sitting in a semi-circle on the floor, Raimundo stretched out on his back. Once the Dragons had processed Master Fung's revelation, they had exited, unaware that Jack and Aderyn were snooping outside. As such, Jack had received a deft blow to the head by the opening door.)

"It was _her_ idea," Jack whined, gingerly touching the goose-egg atop his skull. He grimaced.

Aderyn rolled her eyes. "Yes," she said exasperatedly. "Yes, that was exactly what happened. You never said anything about it being the only way we'll learn anything about what's going on; nope, it was all me." She swiftly seized Jack, placing the icepack on the bump and sighing when the redhead screeched, causing the four Dragons to wince. "Oh, quit whining!"

"What were you _thinking_?" said Kimiko exasperatedly. "We would've told you if you needed to know anything!"

"Yeah right!" snorted Jack, wriggling away from Aderyn's attempts at first-aid. "There's no way you'd be sharing ultra-secret prophecy thingies with us!"

"If it had anything to do with you, we would have!" retorted Kimiko hotly.

"Let it go, Kim," Raimundo sighed. "You're not getting anywhere."

Kimiko bit down on the next few sentences directed at Jack, hands clenched on her knees and quivering with restrained irritation. The eyebrows of her fellow Dragons rose with surprise at her compliancy, but they silently decided that it would be better not to comment on it.

"Anyway," said Clay, "now that we all know about it, what do we do? What does it mean?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Jack, wincing slightly. "You guys will do your magical, Power of Friendship stuff, make some sort of all-powerful goody-goody sword, and kick peoples' butts. It was pretty straight-forward; you didn't catch it?"

"We caught _that_ part," said Raimundo exasperatedly.

"And it's probably not that simple," said Aderyn. "Nothing ever is, especially in this line of work." She seized Jack in a vice-like grip, and placed the icepack against Jack's injury, this time keeping it there. "The sun and moon joining together? What is that, an eclipse?"

"Get real," snorted Jack, trying (and failing) to get away from Aderyn. "You checked your astrology chart lately? There aren't _any_ eclipses due right now." When Aderyn continued to refuse to relinquish her grip, he stopped wriggling, slouching in defeat.

"And what's this about another element?" asked Kimiko, resting her chin on her palm.

"It is most unusual," said Omi. "There have only ever been four Dragon Warriors, as there have only been four elements: Water, Earth, Fire, Wind. There is no room for a fifth."

"The prophecy didn't say there would be another warrior," said Raimundo. "It just said that a fifth element would be revealed."

"Which in of itself is impossible," Omi muttered.

"And who would the new warrior be, anyway?" wondered Kimiko.

As one, the four Dragons' heads turned to look at Aderyn. Her mouth fell open.

"_Me_?"

"It _is_ kinda suspicious," Clay admitted. "You turn up right when we're about to learn all this? It's a mighty fine coincidence."

Aderyn put up her free hand. "Now wait a minute: I'm here because Jermaine's in trouble. I mean, I'm flattered that you'd consider me for your group, and, yeah, I'd love to fly around and shoot fireballs or whatever, but you guys already got all of those, so I really don't want the job!"

"You think the position would be beneath you?" inquired Omi, stone-faced.

"I don't want to get stuck with something lame," she corrected, matching his expression.

Jack snickered. "Yeah, like shooting little pink hearts at people. I can see that."

"You're gonna be seeing _stars_ in a minute."

"Yeah, okay, stop," said Kimiko, cutting off Jack's retort. "We're getting off topic."

Huffing, Jack went back to a sullen slump while Aderyn continued to hold the icepack to his head. But instead of restarting the conversation, no one seemed to want to touch the subject again. They simply sat, not looking at each other, waiting for someone to revive the meeting.

Then Raimundo sat up.

"You know what I just realized? So much has been going on the past few days, we never really got around to checking out the Pendant of Light."

Everyone looked at him. "Uh…," ventured Clay, "if you don't mind my asking, what does that have to do with anything?"

For a very brief moment, Raimundo looked stumped, but he quickly recovered. "Well, y'know… It revealed itself just a few days ago, and you were talking about how coincidental it was that we met Aderyn right when we learned about the prophecy…"

"Not to mention your little fainting spell and outright weirdness over the past few days?" asked Kimiko, eyebrow rising.

There was a strangled noise, and everyone turned to see Jack with a hand covering his mouth to stifle his laughing. "You _fainted_?" Saying it aloud only seemed to add to the apparent hilarity, because he started laughing even harder.

"Great; thanks, Kimiko," said Raimundo dryly to the Dragon of Fire, who had frozen where she sat. "'Cause I really needed _him_ to know about that."

The girl gave a quiet nod, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"But regardless of the context, Raimundo is correct," said Omi over Jack's uproarious laughter as Kimiko began to compose herself. "There has not been much time to examine our newest Wu. We should remedy that very soon."

"You never know how it might come in handy," Clay added. "And it was the last Shen Gong Wu to activate when all this stuff started. It's a good place to look for clues on the situation."

"Yeah, actually, that sounds pretty good-" Kimiko stopped abruptly, cradling her head in her hands. "Okay, I'm sorry, but JACK," she roared, "SHUT UP."

Startled out of his hysterics, Jack cowered under the Dragon of Fire's ferocious glare, suddenly trying to look very small as he shifted closer to Aderyn for protection.

"Thank you," the Japanese girl growled.

Jack squeaked in response, and Aderyn smirked at him. "Regret being here now?"

"...Why _are_ you here?" asked Omi, looking at him quizzically. Jack jumped at being addressed, and blinked at the small monk.

"After I overheard that conversation, the house was way too spooky, y'know? And I figured that since my would-be murderers- yeah, murderers!" he added to Aderyn, who had huffed and rolled her eyes at the word. "You didn't know people wanted to kill me, did you?" ("Oh, I knew," she muttered darkly. Jack waved the comment away with a hand.) "Anyway, since I figured my would-be _murderers_-" Aderyn groaned loudly. "-would be coming for me soon, I decided to come here, with you guys!"

He grinned brightly, but it withered under the Dragons' identical cold stares.

"Why didn't you try to hole yourself up with Chase Young?" asked Clay.

"Oh…" Suddenly, Jack's cheeks became tainted very faintly with pink. "Well, I…"

The Dragons watched silently as Jack fumbled for an answer.

"…He wouldn't let you in, would he?"

The redhead slumped despondently.

_-P-_

The night was dark, which did not make traipsing around some jungle any easier for Wuya. She had to rely on Wraith's flame-tufted tail for guidance, and that did not prevent her from stumbling. She scowled inwardly, not for the first time wistfully thinking of being intangible, in which you couldn't trip over things. But she kept her complaints to herself: Curiosity kept her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth, no matter how irritable she felt.

She was aware of Brant's eyes on her, and he said, "Are you having trouble?"

Wuya shot a glare back at him. "I'm fine," she snapped.

Her irritated words seemed to bounce right off of him, and Brant smiled. "It's not much farther; you'll live."

The witch muttered darkly under her breath, but was forced to stop abruptly when she nearly stepped on Wraith's tail. "What? What's wrong? Why are we stopping?"

Wraith's head turned slightly to her. "We have arrived."

Wuya's brow furrowed in confusion. Silently, Wraith stepped to the side and, seeing the witch's quizzical expression, motioned her to go forward; still confused, Wuya complied, and in just a few more steps she was out of the undergrowth and into a large clearing.

It wasn't much upon first glance. The moon illuminated everything there was to see, and all that was immediately apparent was a very large stone situated on the opposite side. Not noticing the sounds of Wraith and Brant entering the clearing after her, Wuya walked towards the rock, not feeling any clearer on the situation. As she came closer, she saw that on the front of the rock was carved a circle, almost like a large door leading inside; within this circle were other carvings as well, marks that stood out blackly in the moonlight. Her eyes widened.

"This…!"

She closed the remaining distance with slow reverence, hands moving to touch the stone. "In all my years…I never thought…"

"Here is where our mission resides," said Wraith, eyes fixed on the rock, "and perhaps, the answer to your restoration."

Wuya turned, staring. "This is neutral territory. Everyone who's anyone knows that."

"So?"

"_So_, no act of foul play of any kind is permitted here. If _anyone_, Xiaolin or Heylin, makes _any_ sort of attack on this spot…" She trailed off. "Well, who knows what happens to them."

"Wuya, you make it sound like there's going to be some sort of fight here," Brant chuckled.

"Well how else are we going to get through?"

Wraith smiled. "With a key, of course."

The witch looked at the both of them. "Key? What…" She frowned in thought. Then it dawned on her, and she looked back up. Looking at them, she could tell they were thinking the same thing she was.

"So, that's your plan, is it?"

"We knew we'd have to bring you here if we wanted you in," Brant shrugged. "They say honesty is the best policy, and all that."

"So, O witch," said Wraith, a smile playing around his mouth, "is this plan to your liking? What is your decision?"

The moonlight briefly hid behind a cloud, and something still and quiet whispered into the world in the few seconds it took the Heylin witch to answer.

"I'm in," she said, turning back around to face the rock again. "It would be unwise to pass up such an opportunity."

As one, Brant and Wraith smiled quietly. "Good."

_-P-_

Deep in his gut, Raimundo felt a jolt that did not belong to him. He glanced around at his friends; he really didn't feel like acting strange in front of them right now, especially with Jack and Aderyn in the room. Instead, he quickly excused himself and exited, hurrying out into the cool night air.

_Haruki? Something wrong, pal?_

Haruki did not answer. Although Raimundo knew Haruki did not have anything that could be considered a tangible body, he thought he sensed a rapid heartbeat, the thrumming of someone who knew something was wrong.

_Haruki?_

'Huh? No, it's nothing. Just…'

He sounded distracted, Raimundo thought. He'd been sounding more and more distracted as time went on. What this meant, the Wind Dragon didn't exactly know, but for some reason it made him uneasy.

'It must've just been my imagination…'

_Right,_ the Brazilian responded, trying to stay nonchalant. _In that case, now we can both be crazy._

Haruki chuckled weakly. 'Sounds like a plan.'

"Hey!"

Startled, Raimundo turned to see Aderyn walking towards him, a silhouette against the light coming from the building until his eyes adjusted to the moonlight. She stopped a few feet from him, a hand on her hip and a smile on her lips. "You okay?" she asked. "You kinda just got up and left."

"Oh, totally fine," he shrugged. "Just needed a little night air?" He breathed deep and stretched for emphasis. Peeking at her, he saw that she didn't seem too convinced, so he dropped his arms and changed tactics. "What about you? Off babysitting duty?"

"What? Oh, yeah." She laughed. "I left Jack to the tender mercies of your pals. Just thought I'd head off to bed, y'know? We've got a long day tomorrow." Seeing the look Raimundo was giving her, she said, "That's right, you left. Jack's dad is back in town, and apparently you guys wanted to talk to him…?"

'Mr. Frederick Spicer, acquaintance of toy-tycoon Toshiro Tohomiko, father of your dearest Kimiko,' supplied Haruki, still sounding a little distracted.

_I know who the guy is, thanks._ "Right, right. Guess you'd better rest up then." _And quit referring to Kimiko as my dearest!_

'Whatever you say.'

"Yeah, I'll do that." But instead of leaving, Aderyn remained where she was, head tilting to the side as she studied Raimundo thoughtfully. She stood like that long enough for the Brazilian to feel a little uncomfortable, and said, "Are you always this distracted?"

Raimundo blinked. "Huh?"

"You seem like you're somewhere else when you're talking." After a moment, she smirked. "Some would think you're being rude, but I'll let you off the hook this time."

So saying, she turned around and walked away with a parting, "Goodnight, Raimundo." The Wind Dragon had enough sense to mumble out a "Goodnight" in response, still a little confused by what just happened.

'Strange girl.'

Raimundo started a little, and blinked quizzically. _Yeah, I guess so… Seems nice, though._

'I bet she'd be a pretty good wind element.'

Raimundo didn't answer right away. He thought about her smile, how her eyes looked when she smirked, and the easiness of her walk.

"Yeah," he said pensively. "Maybe."

_-P-_

"Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick!"

"Jack, you lay _one finger_ on my hat and you're being thrown off the dragon!"

"Hey, hey! Cool it back there! Don't make me turn this thing around!"

The group situated on Dojo's back slouched uncomfortably to themselves, Jack clutching his stomach and looking slightly green as Clay and Aderyn eyed him apprehensively, readying themselves for when he motioned towards their hat or lap, respectively, and preparing to scoot as far away from the motion-sick redhead as possible. Kimiko had been nice enough to buy Aderyn a new set of clothes, and she was not quite ready to ruin her new jeans (which she had the slightest inkling cost a small fortune alone.)

"Why are you coming along again, anyway?" Jack managed to croak out, glancing back at Aderyn. "It's not like you've got anything to contribute."

"I'm not completely helpless, you know," she growled; suddenly, she became a little self-conscious. "Jermaine taught me a few moves. I'm not great, but I can take care of myself."

"You will have to show us!" exclaimed Omi through the Dragons' mildly surprised murmurs. "Perhaps you could train alongside us as well?"

"I'm not _that_ good."

"I'll bet," muttered Jack. Aderyn flicked his ear, and he yelped.

"Ladies and gentlemen, strap yourselves in," crooned Dojo smoothly as a familiar building came into view on the horizon, "as we come in sight of our destination: the humble abode of Jack Spicer and family."

The conversation quieted, and the group said nothing else as they drew closer to their destination. When the Spicer mansion came within proper viewing distance, Aderyn gave a low whistle.

"Not bad, Spicer," she commented, impressed. Jack looked back, briefly looking surprised, then put on a sly expression and puffed out his chest, sitting up importantly, causing the girl's eyes to roll again.

"So, which way are we entering?" asked Kimiko as they landed and hopped off Dojo. "Lair, or front?"

"They're _both_ on the front, does it really matter?"

"If we go through the front door, maybe we should knock?"

"_Knock_?" Jack snorted disbelievingly. "It's _my house_; we can just walk right in!"

"We are simply confused as how to approach entering your home in a non-violent manner." Omi shrugged. "It is not the normal procedure, you understand."

"Whatever. Let's just go inside, alright? The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Jack reached for the door, but just as his fingers were about to touch the knob, the door swung open of its own accord, and Jack recoiled with a startled shriek.

"Jack? _Jack_! You're home!"

The Dragons blinked. In the doorway was a thin, attractive woman, a white apron bedecked in pink flowers in strange contrast to the stylish clothes and pearls. Her short hair was reddish-blonde, and a pair of big brown eyes sparkled in a pretty face. Peeking at her, Jack relaxed and looked up, surprised.

"Mom?" he blinked, only to release a lungful of air when Aliza Spicer threw her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. The others looked on in mute wonderment.

"And here I thought you weren't getting enough social interaction! Oh, Jackie, I never thought you'd have so many friends!"

Jack wriggled away from her, but Mrs. Spicer seemed to caught up in her own euphoria to mind. "Whoah, hey," he wheezed, "these guys aren't-"

"When she arrived and told me you two had hit it off so quickly, I was so happy, you have no idea!" Mrs. Spicer prattled over Jack's protest.

"-and you shouldn't- Wait, 'she'?" Jack stared up at his mother, eyes very wide. "Who's she?"

"She's in the house right now!" said Jack's mother cheerfully. "And wouldn't you know it, she said you'd be coming home today-"

"Mom, just _who is in our house_?"

For the first time, the smile left Aliza's face, replaced by an expression of confusion. She looked like she was about to say something, but was cut off by an extremely familiar voice.

"Oh, come on, _Jackie_, I'm insulted you haven't guessed!"

The group looked around the woman in the doorway to see a familiar girl with short blonde hair and dark eyes walking out of the shadowy hallway. In a disorienting moment of backwardness, they noticed that she was dressed in white instead of her usual black, with a motif of gold loops as a bracelet, hoop earrings, and belt, completed by a simple gold cat dangling on a chain around her neck.

The sudden appearance by this person caused a stunned, unblinking silence to ensue, broken only by Jack's screech of horror:

"_Ashley_!?"

_-P-_

**Meow.**


End file.
